


Breaking Point

by Six_Lily_Petals



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Amnesia, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Fake Marriage, I don't know what to call this trope, M/M, Mild Gore, Murder Husbands, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, War
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-21
Updated: 2017-11-04
Packaged: 2018-10-08 17:49:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 30,975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10392510
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Six_Lily_Petals/pseuds/Six_Lily_Petals
Summary: During a four year long war between Tevinter and the Anderfels, Fenris abandoned his master to fight for his freedom.  At the end of the war, he decides to capitalize on the news of Anders’ death by claiming to be his spouse.Anders was unlike many of the nobles who fought in the great war.  He ran in the front lines with the Wardens, pushing back the Tevinter forces until finally, there were none left.  When he tried to travel home, he realizes he has no line of credit due to the fact that he was erroneously reported dead.  Imagine his surprise when he finally makes it home to see an additional person at the dinner table.





	1. A New Future

Fenris watched the sun rise over the distant mountains.  Mornings were his favorite time of day, the edge of the of the jagged horizon glowed a brilliant orange, as if the land beyond were being consumed by fire.  He smiled wickedly at the idea of the whole of Tevinter burning. 

Tearing himself away from the fantasy, he rose to face reality.  Tevinter was not burning, it was at war with the Anderfels. 

He walked through the camp, his severe eye always assessing.  It had been four days since his group had last seen battle, yet none of them took the break for granted.  Everyone spent the days preparing, mending armor, healing, repairing weapons, and eating every scrap of food possible.  Supplies were hard to come by, mostly because they had to raid a caravan to get them.  They usually tried to target those from Tevinter.  If they had no choice to go for one from the Anderfels, they tried not to kill anyone.   

At the smith’s makeshift forge, he calculated the ratio of ready weapons to warriors.  They were almost back to every person having a primary and a back up.  Pleased, he gave praise to the smiths for their night time efforts.  They had to stay up all night to avoid the intense punishment of the midday heat from the dessert combining with the heat of the forge.    

Fenris sent his hands plunging into a pile of warm ash that had been set aside, willing himself to ignore the pain as he spread the grey flecks over his exposed skin.  Water was a precious commodity in these parts.  Fuck, in this whole country.  Ash was the only way to stay reasonably clean.  It wasn’t pretty, but it kept off parasites and lice.  Another added benefit is that it hid the smell of body odors which made ambushes a walk in the park when guard hounds couldn’t give early warnings. 

The next stop was the southern watch.  Fenris climbed up the cavern wall to see Aclassi lying flat next to a dying shrub to hide his silhouette. 

Easing up to the watchman, Fenris crawled the final distance to lay next to him.  “Any sign of Marcus?”

The older man pointed to a growing dot in the distance.  “There.  It’s one of ours at least.”

“One?”  Fenris growled in frustration.  “He was supposed to recruit.  Going into town is too dangerous for us, he had better not have wasted it.”

Aclassi nodded in silent agreement, then the two proceeded to wait for the young Marcus to return.  Marcus walked carefully over the sandy landscape to keep from kicking up a dust cloud that would cause suspicion to any patrols in the distance.  This meant Fenris had to wait upwards of twenty minutes for the man’s explanation as to why he returned emptyhanded.   

“It’s over!  Can you believe it!  The war is over!  An armistice was called and all the fighting has stopped.”  Marcus rummaged through his baggy clothing, finally producing an official looking edict.  “I snatched this from the Chantry when no one was looking.”

He passed the paper over the Aclassi, one of few amongst them who could read.  Most of the warriors who fought with Fenris were like he, illiterate slaves who broke from the Tevinter ranks to form their own band in the embattled lands of the Anderfels.  The two countries had been at war for well over four years.  At first Fenris’ band of rebels had started small, but eventually grew to proportions that required them to split up into smaller groups that were more difficult to track and haul back to Tevinter for punishment.  The idea of the war being over was difficult to come to terms with.

Aclassi cleared his throat as he read from the edict bearing the seal of the Chantry mother and The Anderfels’ Crown, purple ribbons and all.  “I hope you gentlemen won’t mind if I skip all the pomp and gratuitous  accolades bestowed upon the ‘great people of the Anderfels’ and get to the main purpose…”  His finger skimmed a third of the way down the paper, “Ah, here.  _‘It is our sincerest pleasure to inform the whole of Thedas that the hostilities between the nations of Anderfels and Tevinter have come to a cessation.  In four months time, the final peace treaty will be signed by both parties at the conclusion of the negotiations set to take place in Nessum, Navarra whose generous hosts, blah, blah, blah…the nation should celebrate this monumental achievement, however, let us also grieve for the brothers and sisters who served with honor.  Most notably, we take a moment to mourn the loss of…’_ ”  He paused, looked up at Fenris.  “You want me to go through the names of all the nobles that were dumb enough to fall of their horse and die?”

Marcus, chuckled, “You mean there’s actually more than one?  Hard to believe they might risk actually sacrificing anything for their country by showing up when there are so many low born to do it for them.”

Aclassi squinted his eyes, “Wait, I think I may have heard of this guy, _“Notable casualties include Anders VonMagie._ ”

“Von-Mah- _ghee_.”  Fenris corrected, his interest piqued.  “I know of him.  A cousin to the crown prince.  Well loved, he actually fought among the ranks.  He was no coward.  My former master had a file on him, considered him a possible pressure point if ‘politics’ needed to be applied as an alternative to war.”

Shrugging, Aclassi crossed his arms, crinkling the paper that was no longer of any use.  “But the war happened so I guess the ancient shitbag of a mage didn’t get a chance to use any of that information.”

Fenris hummed as he thought quickly.  “Yet, I may.  I have a plan.  It’s a long shot but it might prove quite amenable.”

“Amenable?  Why do I get the impression this plan of yours will backfire?”

Fenris shrugged, “If I am to either die here a free man or butchered like an animal in Tevinter, I choose here.”

“What about the rest of us?”  Marcus looked between the two men.  He was too young to have had much of a life before the war, he had nothing to go back to.

Aclassi scratched through his short hair, pinching his eyes shut in thought.  “I know there are a good number of guys who have families they want to return to.  Many others who would be just as happy starting a new life on their own.  As for those like young Marcus here, I could round them up and head south.  Last I heard, my son had joined a band of mercenaries in Orlais.  We could join the band or start our own.”

At this, Fenris laughed heartily, “You?  A mercenary?” 

Aclassi punched Fenris in the shoulder, “Easy there Chief, I still have some fight left in me.”  The old man then cocked a smile, beaming at Fenris’ relaxed manner.  “Freedom looks good on you.”

“Thank you.”  Fenris took a deep breath, his first knowing in his heart he was a free man.  “It’s time to tell the others, the fight is over.  We have earned our rest.”

***

The city of Nordbotten lay in the heart of the country, both figuratively and literally.  It was the main hub for those traveling cross country from as far west as Laysh to as far east as the Tevinter border.  From the northern coast to as far south as Kal-Sharok, Nordbotten was always the midpoint.  The economy was rich, but the city was tame compared to the extravagancies seen in large capitals such as Minrathous.  Even the wealthy chose simple attire, opting for functionality over flare.  While wandering the streets, Fenris’ only hint that a person was nobility was by looking at his boots or his chin.  Commoners typically didn’t waste water on shaving. 

The stone buildings were well crafted, some reaching as high as three stories.  Walking through the plazas was mesmerizing.  At first glance one would assume the desserts of Anderfels to be nothing but red and tan rock.  However, these artisans were able to arrange and craft a wide range of earthy shades to depict wondrous works of art throughout the city.  Whereas in Tevinter, all the stones were cut with precision to create uniform, smooth walls.  Here, the rocks were intentionally odd shapes that fit together well to create a pleasing pattern. 

Wearing the dessert clothing he’d adopted while leading the rebel bands, Fenris blended well in the bustling crowds of the city square.  A common public work in the Anderfels were kinetic statues.  Some changed shapes in the wind, others made music.  These enhanced the beauty of the area without being wasteful like a water fountain.

Fenris searched for which street he needed to take next.  He was startled when the even melodic chimes from the nearby sculpture was disrupted by unruly children who tapped every piece within reach.  Turning to watch them, he discovered his growing unease at the task he’d set before him.

Could he truly pull this off? 

Flexing his fist twice to shake of his nerves, he began his march to the VonMagie estate.  The steady acceleration of his heartbeat tested his resolve, each step requiring mental encouragement.  He rapped quickly at the door before he had a chance to turn and run.  Promptly, it was opened by a smiling servant.

“I desire an audience with Anders VonMagie.”  He stated, prepared to react according to the script he’d developed during the long trek to Nordbotten from the Tevinter border. 

The servant became nervous.  Fenris wore a look of confusion.

Ushered into the mansion, he was led into a sizable study, each wall tiled with neatly organized books.  It was strange to see that the man behind the desk did not appear to be upset at being interrupted by some unknown stranger.  House slaves in Tevinter were killed for lesser offenses.

“Herr?  Dieser Mann hat nach dem jungen Herrn gefragt.”  The servant pulled out a handkerchief as she sniffled and dabbed at tears.  “Excuse me.”

Fenris couldn’t help but watch the bereaved servant leave.  She was a paid employee, granted, but how could she possibly care, sincerely _care_ , about the health of her master?  This made Fenris quickly recalculate his original plan of attack.  He had thought to rely on logic to carry him through, but perhaps he would need to choose a more emotional angle.

A firm hand on his shoulder brought his attention back to Anders’ father.  The older VonMagie sported a short beard that was neatly trimmed, blonde hair and rusty brown eyes.  He gently pushed back Fenris’ hood. 

Curiosity cocked his head to one side, “You’re a Vint.”

Dark skin like Fenris’ was prized in Tevinter, a sign of luxury and leisure to bask in the sun.  However, in the Anderfels, the terrain, wind, and punishing sun lent the populace to wear clothing that covered their entire bodies and leading to fair skin.

“I was one, yes, Mein Herr.  I defected to the rebels after meeting your son on the battlefield.  He inspired me to leave my Tevinter master and fight for my freedom.  With the war over, I hope to be reunited with him.  Is he out?” 

“Son, did…did you not read the edicts?”  His voice still trembled even though the notice of his son’s death came over a year ago.  Yes, this was leverage Fenris could use. 

“I cannot.  Reading among slaves is prohibited.”  It was now that Fenris released the firm grip on his emotions.  The tremors and fear of this entire plot failing warbled his voice and made his hands shake.  “Where – Where is Anders?  Has he not returned yet?  Did something happen to him.  Is he hurt?!  I need to go to him!” 

VonMagie gripped him firmly by the shoulders.  “Easy lad, easy.  You need to calm down.  You need – here, sit down.  Please.”

As Fenris sat, the older man knelt before him, worry deepening the creases of his face.  “I am bereft to inform you that my son,”  He took Fenris’ hands within his in to provide comfort.  “died during the battle of Breaking Point.”

“No.”  Whispered Fenris, quiet and disbelieving.  A stark contrast to the fevered calculations his mind balanced – _remain vigilant, do not over play your part._

“Take heart that he has found peace at the Maker’s side.”

The phase was a common one among mankind.  The Maker loves his children, the Maker will care for them at his side.  It was a difficult phrase to believe in when Fenris came face to face with the horrors of war.  The ocean of blood.  The gruesome tortures inflicted on soldiers.  Bones.  Brains.  Every body part he has seen or held in his hands.  Hands that tried to beat death by holding together wounds that he knew would never stop bleeding until the heart failed. 

Unbidden images of those who had fought beside him flooded his mind’s eye.  All the names, faces, voices – all picture perfect.  The curse of his eidetic memory. 

Many he had considered friends.  Good friends.  Good people who didn’t deserve the fate they were dealt. 

Pain.  

A flood pounded at the walls of his chest.  Pressure built behind his eyes.  He pinched them to hold it in. 

This only created cracks in the corners for the bitter liquid to seep through.   

When he tried to take a gulp of air, he snapped.  His head fell into his hands and his entire body was wracked with grief.  

Immediately, VonMagie scooped him up to hold him tight.  "I know, I know.  Let it out."

He was crying too which led Fenris let his own dam break.  Tucked against the kind old man, he sobbed uncontrollably.  He poured himself into mourning, a thing he'd denied himself since he first set foot in this country.  

Thinking on that first day, he was also reminded that he was a slave then.  No longer.  Tears of sorrow transformed onto tears of joy as he played his final card in this dangerous game of deceit in the name of survival.

"I sought Anders because…because…we were married."

 


	2. A Surprising Welcome Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A very not-dead-Anders returns home.

Anders savored the musty smell the city had in the winter.  The crisp, moist air clung to the buildings.  The evening’s darkness could have convinced him he was in a cave were it not for the night’s twinkling stars.  His nerves were beginning to get to him.  Walking the streets of his home, he felt slightly hesitant. 

Turning to his companions, Anders asked, "You sure you don't want to stay with me?  You know we have the room."

Gaerrett Hawke, the older of the two was quick to answer.  "We'll be fine at the inn.  You need time to adjust to family life again and we'll only get in the way."

Carver scoffed, "Speak for yourself.  It’s easy for you to get in the way when you're wedged between his legs."

Garrett slung a beefy arm over his lean brother.  "Carver, when you've been at war as long as Anders and I have, you get these urges, or as some call them, itches that you just have to scratch.  Turning to a good friend isn’t the worst way to take care of that."

Carver ducked out from the embrace, hot and offended, "Been at...What?  I was there.  WITH YOU.  I fought in the war too, you dumbass.  I know what it's like to be without romantic company for four years."

"Four years."  Anders remarked with wonder.  Four years apart from his family.  

Oblivious to Anders personal observance, Hawke wrapped Carver up in a fond hug, pressing the man’s face to his chest, patting his hair.  "Ah you poor, poor pup.  You see Anders?  I need to get this sad, sad man to an inn, to mingle, and to hopefully find a nice fuck."

"Not everyone thinks like you, asshole."  Carver wormed his way out once more.  He ruffled his hair to some semblance of order.  "Can we please just go to bed?  I'm dead on my feet."

Anders laughed as they said their farewells and parted ways with promises to meet in the morning.  He was thankful for their company.  During the long journey home, the Warden brothers had been and endless source of entertainment and coin.  He intended to pay them back, every copper if he could manage, but those damn Hawkes were insufferably stubborn at times.

Without the brothers, Anders may not have made it home at all.  Anders thought about his family.  Maker, were they going to be surprised.  For over a year they thought him dead, a casualty amongst the masses at the battle of Breaking Point.  Although he had been at the battle, he had survived, barely, to fight another day.  

And another. 

Anders shivered.

When the forces regrouped, he, like many others, went where he was needed.  Skipping from one bloody battlefield to the next.  No one cared who you were as long as you pulled your weight.    

He didn't learn about the miscommunication until he tried to go home.  His line of credit had been cut off and no tradesman or merchant would believe him.  It was a small mercy that the Hawkes had been there when it happened and offered to escort him home.  Garrett claimed some Warden business in the nearby area and assured Anders it wouldn’t be an inconvenience. 

It was also Hawke, lover of pranks, who persuaded Anders not to send word ahead of his living status. 

_"Imagine, Santinalia eve, barging through the door not only a hero, but a fucking legend who rose from the ashes.  Honestly, the most badass story ever.  You have to do it."_

 

Turning a corner, the VonMagie estate came into view.  The windows glittered with light, the sight caused his heart to catch in his throat.  After so many years, it was hard to believe this moment was real.  He was afraid.  

What if it vanished when he touched the knocker?  

What if his family didn’t like what he had done?  

The creativity of his mind was boundless and working rapidly to sabotage this precious moment.  

Shaking his head and casting a small cleanse spell, he forced a heavy exhale, then he was ready to tackle his homecoming.  

At the front door, he let himself in.  The doorman inside leapt to his feet but feel backward with a hand over his heart in shock.  Anders swiftly held a finger to his lips to keep the man quiet, offering a mischievous wink as an explanation before drifting toward the family living.  The doorman eagerly let him by with a whisper of ‘welcome home’. 

Walking down the long corridor made Anders’ stomach feel like a sack of cats fighting over a rat.  He was giddy, nervous, scared, and actually a little hungry all at once.  

Just outside the living, he heard his father talking.  Anders knees turned to mush.  Falling to the floor he held a hand over his mouth, quietly crying with joy.  It had been so long, letters paled in comparison to hearing his father speaking.  It all still felt like a dream.  

One from which he was quickly ripped when he heard an unfamiliar voice with an unmistakable accent. 

Tevene.

Anger boiled off the last of the night’s chill.  His eyes narrowed and every muscle in his body tensed.  How could the war have followed him home?  It wasn’t supposed to be this way, he was done, dammit.  What the fuck could they want from him now?

His family.  Maker preserve him, he had to protect them. 

Anders slid soundlessly to press against the wall.  His heart beat so loudly in his chest he feared that it might give him away.  Edging closer to the door, his ears strained to detect the number of people in the other room.  If there were more than one Vint, he’d need to have a plan.  He paused when his fingers met the open doorway, listening.

“Vati, this is beautiful!  Oh, thank you so much, I love it.  Oh, feel how soft this is.”  Elise gushed to their father.  Her sweet voice was like bells in a gentle breeze, but it had changed.  Older and a touch deeper and slower.  Anders regretted missing the last of her teenage years.

She didn’t sound in distress, so Anders braved a peek into the room.  The setting was a familiar as the rising sun.  Ever since he was a child, each year had been the same.  His family sat circled around the hearth with coals burning warmly.  Everyone had their own seat all facing each other to exchange gifts on the eve of Santinalia. 

His heart ached to see his mother’s chair empty, however, it had been so for twelve years.  Following the circle, his father sat on the edge of his own chair, hugging an appreciative Elise with Katarine sitting between them.  As for Anders’ chair, it was occupied.  His fingernails dug harshly into his skin as he clenched his fists, ready to pummel the presumptuous Vint.

If the voice hadn’t been a dead giveaway, the man’s looks certainly were.  The bronzed, tawny skin and lean musculature matched the vaunted Tevinter ideal.  The intruder was undoubtedly strong, but from training, not from hard earned labor.  The implication of leisure disgusted Anders to his core.  The fact that the white-haired trespasser injected himself into one of Anders’ most cherished traditions set him seething. 

He would have killed the man on the spot had his father not spoken.  “You are very welcome my sweet girl.  Now, I think it is time for Fenris to receive his gift.”

“Please, Mein Herr, I-“

“No, no.  You are family now and will always be treated as such.  I know the holidays can be hard when half of your heart is missing.”  Vati longingly caressed the arm of his wife’s chair.  “But life carries on and although we hold sad memories of those we lost, we should never forget how they encouraged us to live.  I believe it would please Anders greatly to know that his stables were in good, strong, caring hands.  If you will take on the responsibility, they are yours.”

“Mein Herr, that is too generi-“  Fenris came to a cold, dead stop. 

Slowly, ever so slowly, he rose from his chair, locking eyes on Anders.  The reaction was so strange, Anders became intrigued and walked into the room in full view. 

“Anders?”  The faint whisper was barely audible.  “You-you’re alive?”

The tremble in his voice and wide eyes probably fooled his family, but not Anders.  The man was a liar, a trickster, but the greatest mystery was – what did he want?  Why was he here?  Did he seek to marry one of his sisters?

Instantly the wind was knocked from his as he was assaulted by said sisters.  They both spoke hurriedly at the same time as they cried with joy.  It was impossible to understand them clearly but, the sounds echoed the happiness in Anders’ soul at seeing them again. 

Vati wedged himself between the two women, who reluctantly backed off to allow father and son a hearty embrace.  Vati grabbed Anders by his overgrown whiskers, “Maker I would recognize you even if this damn thing stretched to the floor.  I can’t believe it, this is a miracle.  Are you sure I’m not dreaming?”

Anders had to laugh, “It’s no dream, I’m home.  I’m home.”

Refusing to let him go, Vati kept a firm arm around Anders’ shoulder as he turned to the Vint, “Fenris, look at this!  Can you believe it?  Your husband made it home, how amazing is that?!”

All eyes focused on the Vint with eager excitement. 

Anders remained dumbstruck, husband?  He had no husband, did they mean he and the Vint?  No, that’s impossible.

Suddenly, the Vint fell to the floor, or rather passed out.  Elise and Katarine rushed to help him.  Anders didn’t move, didn’t dare breathe. 

Husband?

“Anders, you alright son?”  Vati squeezed his shoulder.  “Aren’t you happy to see your spouse?  What is the matter boy?”

This was madness.  How could this spy entrench himself so soundly?  Anders knew his family weren’t fools, so how, and more importantly, why was he here?  Slipping to the nearest chair, Anders clutched his head with both hands.

“I am having trouble Vati.  Why do you think we’re married?”

“He told us so.  Said you two met during Breaking Point and that you were his inspiration to join the rebel forces.  Before you parted ways, you exchanged vows and promised to meet again after the war.  Don’t you remember any of this?”

There wasn’t a single doubt in his father’s mind that the tall tale the stranger provided was truth.  Instead, his first reaction was to question Anders!  Was there any level of deception that the Tevinters wouldn’t exploit? 

_Fine.  The spy wants a husband?  I want some answers._

Anders rubbed at his head.  “I had a nasty injury during Breaking Point, laid up in bed for a month and had difficulty remembering who I was or what I was doing.  I didn’t realize how bad my memory lapses were until I traveled home with the Hawkes.  Walking the streets, I had trouble remembering how to get home.” 

“Oh, my boy, what you have suffered.  Thank the Maker for those Hawkes.”  Vati craned his neck to look behind Anders.  “Where are they?”

“They are at the inn.  They didn’t want to…”  Anders trailed off as he watched Fenris coming to himself again.

Elise held his head in her lap, a damp napkin to his forehead.  When she removed it, Fenris’ eyes fluttered open and for the first time, Anders took note of their rich, deep green coloring.  They were hazy, his expression lost.  Anders had to give the man credit for going all in on his role.  He was making a good sell.

Fenris rolled away from Elise and waved off the cup of water Katarine offered.  “Apologies.  I fear that I fell prey to a hallucination.”

“Is it that bad to see me again?”  A nervous chuckle came from Anders easily. 

There was renewed surprise on Fenris’ face.  “Impossible.  I thought I would never see you again.  Are you really here?” 

Fenris’ smile favored one side, quirking up slightly more than the other, enhancing his charming features.  He moved gracefully, lacking any hesitation, across the room to fold Anders into his arms.  One hand skimmed up his back to the nape of Anders’ neck, the tips of the fingers toyed delicately with his hair. 

Such gentleness was a splash of cold water to Anders’ system.  He dared not move, his body overwhelmed with the tender intimacy.  When Fenris leaned in for a kiss, he did not expect the sweet caress of soft lips, nor the light sweeps of the tongue that sent tingles to the tips of Anders’ toes.  Briefly, Anders contemplated melting into the warm embrace of the seductive spy.  He inhaled deeply, savoring the discovery of lustful temptation.  A night with this man might be worth a knife in the back. 

Instead, he gave a small push, putting space between them.  Anders was reluctant to deprive himself entirely and allowed Fenris keep his hold.  “This is sudden.” 

It wasn’t until Fenris’ elegantly long ears drooped with dismay that Anders realized the man was an elf. 

“This is sudden, for me.  I was just explaining to Vati, I suffered some memory loss after Breaking Point.  My injuries were severe and I spent over a month recovering.”  Anders gave a weak laugh as he rubbed at his head.  “I even needed help finding my home.”

Fenris was visibly crestfallen, but gathered his composure well.  This man was born for theater, such a waste to pour this kind of talent into a weapon. 

Clasping his hands behind him, Fenris posed, “You do not recall me?  At all?”

Anders leaned back deeper into his chair, grasping at his forehead dramatically.  “I’m trying, but it’s hard.  It hurts.”

Spontaneously, Anders’ stomach growled fiercely which gave Anders a much needed break from questioning.

Katrine gasped, “Oh, you must be starving!  Come, come, I’m sure there’s some of supper left, if not I’m sure we can manage something.”

Anders was swept off to the kitchen by his doting family.  He found it easiest to let them manhandle him and follow their instructions to eat and drink. 

Elise updated Anders on the local news – who moved on, who came home, who didn’t, what businesses were new.  Throughout her story, Anders made a point to act confused at some names to add credibility to his claim.  Katarine talked about regular family business, often times with Vati interjecting when the topic pertained to him.  As with Elise, Anders chose certain items to ‘forget’.    

It was Fenris who attended him like a nursemaid, fetching the food, pouring the drink, removing his formal overcoat.  Attentive and considerate like a spouse from a fairy tale.  Anders chuckled to himself at the absurd effort, but enjoyed it nonetheless. 

The energy from his earlier excitement waned, leading to his eyelids falling.  When he bobbed his head in an attempt to stay awake, again, his family took charge and escorted him promptly to his old room.  There, Fenris dismissed his family, assuring them he would see Anders safely to bed. 

Alone, Anders was dismayed to find his room wasn’t as he left it.  The bedding was different, the desk had been moved closer to the window, and a new dresser sat in the corner.  Then it hit.

Of course, Fenris moved into his room.  As his ‘spouse’ he had every right.  Anders groaned at the intrusion of privacy, “Fenris, how long have you been here?”

“A week past the announcement of the armistice.”

The infiltrator had been ready to make his move the instant the armistice took effect, damn.  That meant that this plan had been crafted long before then, possibly years before.  Who could fathom the lengths taken to sell such a lie.  Anders was thankful that he wasn’t dead and actually had the opportunity to expose Fenris for the villain he knew him to be. 

Fenris remained focused, unaware of Anders’ musing and instead was single mindedly working Anders out of his battle robes.  The knots were deftly picked free, buckles slid easily from their tightened, rusted clasps.  Each piece, each layer was worked loose and removed in precisely the correct order.  Lacking an armor stand, Fenris arranged the vestments in a neat pile in a vacant corner.  It’d all have to be cleaned anyway. 

“So, Vati says you were one of the rebels, an Ash Warrior.”

“I was.”

Without his armor, Anders felt lighter, happier, and definitely sleepier.  He swayed a bit when Fenris requested he step out of his smalls.  Although naked, as a mage, Anders wasn’t completely defenseless and he wondered how much of a threat Fenris perceived him to be.  Watching Fenris’ eyes, he was disappointed that they never wandered, not once, to Anders’ cock.  Even after he made it twitch, there wasn’t a hint of a reaction. 

Anders had been so confident after the kiss in the living room that Fenris had some inclination of bedding him.  He’d sincerely thought that…

Thought…

…that…

Shaking his head, Anders felt a heavy fuzziness linger.  He lunged at Fenris but ended up tripping over his own feet.  Fenris caught him before he crashed to the floor, supporting him over his shoulder.

Anders tried to shout but it came out slurred, “You drugged me.”

“Yes.  I did.”  Answered Fenris without a hint of regret.  “You are in need of rest.”

Anders held no memory of walking toward the bed and no memory of Fenris tucking him in.  The last thought he had before succumbing to the drug was of Fenris’ kiss and the hope that he wouldn’t be dead in the morning. 


	3. An Addition to the Family

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anders learns just how far Fenris has set his roots within the VonMagie Family.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to pass along my thanks to [kittenmage](http://archiveofourown.org/users/I_hate_mages_No_you_dont/pseuds/I_hate_mages_No_you_dont) for the assist with translations. Your patience and kindness are appreciated :D
> 
> I was going to save this, but posting early in the hopes of cheering up a friend

“So he just left you naked in bed?”  Hawke snorted with laughter.  “He could have at least asked if you wanted a quickie, I mean why not?  You’re halfway there.”

“He could have killed me!” countered Anders.

“In your own home?  I don’t think so.”

“Fuck, Garrett, could you at least pretend to be concerned for my safety?”  Anders looked to Carver who shrugged.

“He does have a point.”

“Well, fuck you too then.”  Anders tossed at Carver.

Garrett became offended, “Hey, hey – I already called dibs if you ever wanted to top.”

Groaning in frustration, Anders moved to the window.  “Both of you are useless.”

The morning meeting with the Hawkes wasn’t going the way he imagined in the least.  Anders awoke, refreshed and recharged, but the second he recalled Fenris admitting he’d drugged him, he rushed to the dining room to alert his family.  No one was to be found and when he asked after Fenris, the servants made a point to comment on what ‘a nice young man’ he was and ‘oh, he’s so handsome and sweet’. 

This set Anders rushing to the inn, desperate to ask the Hawkes for assistance since the whole household had lost its mind. 

However, after relating his story, them siding with the Tevinter spy was decidedly _not_ helpful. 

Carver delved into his perspective.  “Anders, I don’t see why you are stressing about this.  Alright, yes, there is a Vint spy in your house, but he hasn’t done any harm…”

“Yet.”  Spit Anders. 

“Granted, but he didn’t take advantage of you.  Can’t we assume that’s he’s just doing reconnaissance?”

Garrett leaned forward on the edge of the bed, clasping his hands together eagerly.  “I wanna meet him!”

Anders rested his shoulder on the frame of the inn’s open window.  The morning bustle below, the normalcy, was still strange for him to witness.  Even this close he felt worlds away, his heart always anticipating a sudden explosion or call to arms.  After so many years at war, Anders found it difficult to simply brush off his constant vigilance.  Doing so with a known threat in his home was impossible.  He needed the Hawkes on his side. 

“Oh you’ll meet him.  I need the both of you to come to dinner tonight-”

“Um, we’ve already got a _thing_ tonight.”  Carver supplied.  “Won’t be back until day after tomorrow.”

Garrett shrugged with a frown letting Anders know they couldn’t postpone.  Anders felt helpless knowing they would be out of town for so long.  “Alright, fine.  We’ll do it when you get back then.  Assuming I’m still alive by then.”

With a dismissive wave of his hand, Garrett scoffed.  “Oh, of course you will be.  You showing up alive and all not-dead has probably messed up his plans.  Now he has to send a report back and wait for instructions or something.  It’ll take at least two weeks before he’s given the order to kill you.”

“Oh, well, gee, thanks for the reassurance, prick.”  Anders slumped into the nearby chair.  “So, until then, how do I get this guy to expose himself?”

“Do we have to?  Wouldn’t it be better if we killed him?” asked Carver.

“I have no proof.  My family treats him like blood and the staff can’t stop talking about how great he is.  I can’t kill him or make him disappear.”  Anders felt as if he had his hands tied and was tossed in a pit of vipers. 

“Well, I have to admit the amnesia thing was a good idea.  We’ll back you up on it if it ever comes up, spread a few hints in the city as we do business so it seems less suspicious.”  The older Hawke wagged his eyebrows suggestively.  “If I may suggest, why not try to woo him?” 

“Aw, c’mon Garrett, for once can you not think with your dick?”  chided Anders.

“No, listen.  Listen.  Turn all this around him, put _him_ on the defensive, yeah?”

Carver scratched at his chin.  “He might actually have a good idea.  If you can get this guy to feel comfortable, ease up his guard, the greater the likelihood is he’ll slip up.  You said he didn’t try to sleep with you, but did he do anything else?”

Anders hesitated.

Garrett gasped, “He made a move at you didn’t he?  What was it?”  He rushed to Anders’ side to imitate his suggestions.  “Did he caress your thigh under the table?  Did he play with your golden locks?”

Anders pushed up from the chair and far from Garrett, “No, it wasn’t that.  It was- it was just a kiss.”

Garrett groused as he stole Anders’ seat.  “That’s no fun.” 

“But that’s a good sign, he may be interested for personal reasons.”  Carver offered. 

Traditional displays of affection were never fun with Garrett.  He preferred to skip ahead to the ‘fun of playing with naughty bits’.  While they were intimate during the war, Anders asked him once why he never enjoyed kissing, to which Garrett replied, _‘It’s too, I don’t know, it’s too simple and doesn’t really turn me on.  At that rate, what’s the point?’_

Not long ago, Anders would have agreed.  That was before Fenris.  That memory.  The kiss, those fingers, Maker – it make Anders lick his lips longingly.

“Well, tell me this, is the guy any good at it?”  Garrett asked flippantly. 

Carver hit his brother over the head, “That’s none of your business.”

Much to Anders’ relief, the breakfast they’d ordered arrived and they set their minds to quieter matters.  At the conclusion, Carver excused himself to hunt down some mounts for them to rent, leaving Anders alone with Garrett.  The dark haired man only waited long enough to ensure his brother reached the bottom floor before pouncing.

Hawke slammed Anders playfully against the wall.  Anders laughed more so out of habit than from pleasure, a reflex he’d been unaware he developed. 

Biting his ear, Garrett whispered, “The thought of another man touching you, eye-fucking you, really has my blood going.  You think he’d like to watch?”

A game.  It involved dirty words and weak pleas from Anders.  The game had been an escape from the horrors of war, an outlet.  It had been fun, but now, all Anders wanted was something…softer. 

“Hawke, I’m not feeling it.”

Hawke released him then reached a hand into his breeches, “ _Ohh,_ yes you will.  Just gimme a minute.”

Normally Anders would have been tempted, but today, the lust wasn’t there.  “No, I really mean it.”  He pushed Garrett back, “Not today.”

Garrett quirked a half smile and a dejected huff, “Okay, I get it.  I can take care of myself, but seriously, you’ll have to change that attitude if you’re going to have that Vint eating out of your hand.”

 

After leaving the inn, Anders wandered about the town aimlessly.  Merchants traded food and goods with ease, the thought of rations foreign to their civilian minds.  He was home but he couldn’t shake the strangeness away. 

Seduce the spy.  It was an intriguing thought, made all the easier with his ruse of memory loss.  He had an excuse to pry and offer encouraging advancements as a means of re-gaining what they’d lost. 

He kicked at a pebble.  A small pain in his heart longed to have that in truth. 

“Anders?  Anders!”  Vati’s voice rang out in the courtyard, his hand waved high in the crowd, an easy feat considering his height.  He jogged over as best he could with a bad ankle and an ever sore back. 

Anders met him halfway, his father was already out of breath.  “There you are!  I’ve been looking all over.  The innkeeper said you left well over an hour ago.  Did you get lost again?”

He felt like a child and a blush crept to his cheekbones, “I’m sorry, I thought I could make it on my own.”

"Next time, you should take Fenris with you.  He is young and can keep up with you."  Vati laughed at his physical, but they both knew it was true.  His age was showing more than it had in the past. 

“A good idea.  Where is he?  I didn't see him at breakfast."

Vati laughed as they walked together back to the estate.  "Oh, he was up long before you.  He does well to care for the herd in the mornings before the sun is high.  He busies himself in the city in the afternoons."  He laughed again, “Not bad for a Vint, huh?"

Anders smiled but he couldn't bring himself to laugh, his father noticed.  "Something troubling you boy?"

"I'm not sure what to think.  After four years of fighting Vints-"

"Ah!  There it is.  I know what you mean.  We were skeptical too.  A Vint, claiming to be my son's husband?  Absurd!"  Vati laughed again but this time it faded to a fond tone.  "We tested him.  Trust me, he knows the family."  He pushed a finger in Anders' chest "He knows you.  We even offered him money.  Gave him the chance to cut and run, but he stayed.  Mucking the stalls, washing and conditioning the new herd.  Not easy work, if you remember."

Anders nodded, he did remember.  He had the callouses to prove it.  This account worried him since it gave more credit to his spy assumption.  The man was embedding himself deeper than a damn camel tick.

Vati set a firm hand on Anders shoulder, "He’s a hard worker, honest, a good man.  Each day I understand better why you chose him."  His eyes twinkled, "In time, you will too."

 

Anders found Fenris in the stables as Vati said.  He was hard at work, lost to the rhythm of brushing a camel’s fur. 

For centuries, the VonMagie family breed camels to be imperial mounts.  The years of caring for the herd’s fur would soon see its final transformation.  The fur was kept long and the animal’s skin oiled and conditioned to encourage healthy growth.  A week before presenting them to the Prince, Anders’ family shaved, dyed, and sheared the fur into intricate designs.  This tradition was exclusive to the Von Magie family since they kept the method and execution a tightly held secret. 

Fenris didn’t notice Anders until he spoke, “Busy little sparrow, should I call you my Spatz?  Vati says you’ve been up since before dawn.”

“There is work to be done.”  Fenris answered coolly over his shoulder. 

Fenris made wide sweeping brushes along the side, applying the right amount of pressure, just as Vati taught Anders.  It prickled Anders’ pride that this outsider, a Vint no less, was brought into the family fold so quickly.    

Fenris kept his eyes on his task as he asked, “Should I call you my faulpelz as it is clear your intent is only to watch?” 

Anders barked in laughter, accepting the barb.  Only once Fenris had said something did Anders realize that he was right – he had been watching.  Fenris held the animal in place and brushed up and down and across, sending ripples through the elf’s back.  The cords of muscle twitched and flexed under his scarred skin causing Anders’ core to stir in a way that Hawke’s blatant come on hadn’t.  Fenris was lean, but he was all taut meat and quite handsome when Anders pushed aside the deadlier aspects. 

Anders leaned against the stall wall.  “How did we meet?” 

“During the confusion of Breaking Point.  At my Master’s bidding, I cut through the main front of the army in an attempt to kill off the leadership situated in the rear.  You caught me before I could reach my destination.  We fought.”

Anders couldn’t keep from grinning as he teased, “Did I win?”

“Yes.  And no.”  Fenris moved around to the other side of the camel.  “You won the fight, but you did not kill me.  You should have.”

Chuckling, Anders interrupted, “Did I fall for your dreamy eyes and held back my magic?”

“No.  There was a large explosion nearby and you dragged me to the source.  We never learned what happened, but there were bodies everywhere.  You set to work.  You are a natural leader, and as such, you easily organized survivors into groups to triage the casualties." Fenris stopped working and looked at Anders with pride.  “Even the Vints.  You healed _all_ using magic.  You did for us what our masters would never consider.”

“They don’t use magic to heal the ranks?”

“No.  Slaves are cheap and magic can be better served as a weapon.  Why waste mana on an expendable?”

Thinking back on that horrific battle that lasted weeks, Anders knew that Fenris had at least been there.  Everything had been so chaotic, there wasn’t a chance Anders could remember each day.  Only the people.  The endless waves of people.

“My apologies, I did not intend to cause you distress.”

Startled, Anders glanced up and the simple eye movement alerted him to the fact he was tearing up.  He wiped at his eyes, “It’s alright.  Bound to happen.”  He sniffled, then cleared his throat.  “Please go on.”

Fenris paused to reconsider, but chose to do as asked.  “You left unattended for quite some time.  I regained enough strength to carry out my mission.  You were clearly a key element, a noble.  I should have killed you.”  Fenris sighed as if some small part of him regretted not doing so.  “I almost did.  You were completely drained to the point you were crawling from patient to patient.  I approached you, sword in hand.  I looked down on you, clothing caked in mud, face stained with the spray of blood.  You knew I intended to kill you and yet, you regarded me with no remorse.  None.”

Fenris choked a little on his words, needing to shake his head to find his nerves.  “Your words haunt me still.  You did not beg, you did not weep for yourself.  You asked me to wait.  _‘Please wait, I can save one more.’_ ”

Swallowing hard, Anders was astounded.  He could only pray that in such a situation he would behave in that manner.  Appealing to his vanity, Maker’s breath, this spy was too good.  Too dangerous.

After refilling the trough and giving the camel an affectionate scratch along the neck, Fenris finally joined Anders outside the stall.  “That moment changed everything.”

Anders blew out a nervous laugh, “Surely you don’t think- “

“ _You_ changed everything.  The Vints you saved became the camp’s security.  Myself and a few others ran back into the Tevinter ranks and spread discord, recruiting as we went.”

“Bullshit!”  Although he was right that the Tevinter rebels had first sprung up at the battle of Breaking Point, Anders was dumbfounded to be named the reason why they formed in the first place.  “That’s impossible.”

“It is not.”  Fenris answered flatly.

“How could you- I mean, I can’t…This is ridiculous!  How can you possibly say that I’m the reason Breaking Point happened?  Basically, the reason Tevinter lost the war!  Do you have any idea how stupid that sounds?  You can’t be serious!”  Anders lost himself in the denial, forgetting that anything Fenris said was a fabrication to begin with. 

“The truth does not care how it is perceived by others.  It only is as it was.”

The lie was absurd.  Anders prayed that Fenris hadn’t been spreading this preposterous rumor around town, Anders would have to exile himself from embarrassment.  “Did you tell my father this?”

“Only that we met at Breaking Point.  None of the details.”

Anders sighed in relief.  “That is an extraordinary story.”

Stepping closer, Fenris reached for Anders’ chin.  He moved in close for a kiss, but at the last moment, tilted Anders’ head to plant his lips on the cheek.  They lingered and Anders leaned into them to feel that sweet pressure once more. 

“You are an extraordinary man.”  Fenris’ hushed, raspy voice set Anders’ heart beating against his ribcage. 

The world stilled as they gazed into each other’s eyes.  Anders wanted to believe him, not for the glory of the tale, but he wanted to trust him.  He wanted to have someone who looked at him as Fenris did now with conviction.  With love. 

“Why are you sad?”

The chaste liberties that Fenris had taken with Anders made him feel inclined to do the same.  He reached out to hold Fenris by the hips, half of his palm touching the warm, sweat slick skin.  Anders ducked his head to rest against Fenris’ neck, as his hands slid up the man’s back.  The scars felt like braille under his fingertips, but the soft give of the muscles let him know the touch was welcome as Fenris relaxed in his hold. 

“I want to remember.” 

Fenris smelled like brittle hay with a hint of rose water and sage from the fur conditioner.  His father wanted him to have a good man.  So did Anders.

_I want this to be real._

“Mein Herr?”  The unexpected voice of the servant parted the pair.  She smiled timidly at them, then gave a quick bow.  “Excuse me, but your father has sent for the both of you.  A summons has come from the Crown Prince.”

 

Vati’s office was the same as it always had been, as if frozen in time.  The older man gestured for them to sit on the balcony as he passed off the rolled summons to Anders.

“To summarize for you, in the wake of the war, many families in the Anderfels have been broken by the losses.  Furthermore, hardship has spread as those who were once Ash Warriors have become refugees scattered throughout the country.  This is causing trouble for the Prince as he prepares for the armistice talks.  Each of the noble families are offering different solutions and complaints.  What troubles His Highness is that there is too much discord among the traveling Council.  He wants a united front when meeting in Nessum.  He has heard how we have dealt with those seeking asylum in our precinct and has specifically asked that I escort Fenris to meet with him.”

Both Fenris and Anders lurched forward in their seats, open mouthed in shock.  Vati waved at them to let him finish.  “I know your reservations.  Fenris for your want of privacy and Anders for his lack of knowledge of the efforts Fenris has made within the precinct.”

Anders whipped his head from his father, to Fenris, then back again.  “What are you talking about?  I thought he only worked in the stables?”

Fenris sunk into his chair with humility as Vati spilled into a list of accolades of Fenris’ accomplishments.  The organization of a soup kitchen to care for _all_ returning soldiers.  The establishment of a centralized work force to farm people out to odd jobs until permanent work could be found.  Deed after deed that not only benefited those native to the Anderfels, but the Ash Warriors as well, folding them seamlessly into the community.

To say Anders was stunned was a gross understatement.

“We are a peaceful island among a warring sea thanks to Fenris.  A smart man, your husband.”  Vati pointed to the rolled papers.  “The details are in there.  The rendezvous point is but two days ride from here.  To meet up with the Prince’s convoy, you two may depart this weekend.”

“This weekend?  Vati, I can’t go.  I just got back and my…condition is still causing issues.”  _I can’t bring a spy to the Prince!  He’ll come back from the dead to kill me!_

“Your sisters are better suited to fill your place here and I am getting too old to travel.  Besides, the time on the road will give you more privacy to become reacquainted with each other.”

Fenris was decidedly silent on the subject, leaving Anders to fill the void.  “Some…privacy might be nice.”  Glancing at Fenris with a smile, Anders watched as his expression went from mournful to bashful.  The faint rose color in his cheeks and at the tips of his ears was a delight.  Anders had to fight the urge to kiss each pretty little bloom. 

“It’s settled!  Thank you, boys.  I’ll tell your sisters, you may thank me later for taking the brunt of their anger at staying home.  You’re welcome.”

The younger men understood the dismissal and made for the door. 

“And Anders?  Please do our Prince the courtesy of informing him that you are alive _before_ you set foot on his doorstep?”

Now it was Anders turn to feel bashful.  “Yes, Vati.”


	4. Doubts and Regrets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kindling a new relationship and receiving disturbing news.

"Aren't you going back to the stables?"  Anders asked when Fenris made the wrong turn leaving the senior VonMagie's office.

"My work there is done for now.  The Home Table will be open soon, they may need help."  Fenris plucked at his dirty breeches to indicate the need for a change.

“Home Table?”

Fenris felt heat creep into his cheeks inexplicably.  “The soup kitchen.”

"Would you like my company?"

"As you wish."  Fenris turned to finish his journey to the bedroom but Anders gently grabbed his arm.

"No.  I can't bear it, please never do that."

"I do not understand."

"If I ask, I want to know what you want.  Don't put it back on me, be honest.  Do you want my company or not?"

The years he spent as a body guard to his former Master taught Fenris to read body language - to see what was left unspoken.  Concern.  A rare feature for Fenris to see in Tevinter, yet here, it was as frequent as the rising sun.  Anders was uncomfortable but he was making an effort out of concern.  Fenris pitied his memory loss but was grateful for it at the same time.  

"My apologies.  An old habit from being a slave.  It would please me if you came."

The reminder of what he once was tasted bitter.  Even with the few feet between, them he could feel Anders' power.  A tingling reminder that Anders was a mage.  A mage just like Danarius.  He held his head high, fighting the urge to dip his eyes before his ‘better’.  Fenris mentally spit at the ideal that had been taught to him.  

Luckily, his time with the rebels and the months with Anders family broke him of adding the instinctive, 'master' to his responses.  Fenris had broken so many rules that had once been beaten into him.  Rules that dictated how he ate, how he slept, even if he could take a piss.  It felt good, even if fear of repercussions still stabbed at his heart.  Mornings were the worst.

“You were a slave?” 

Fenris nodded.  Anders’ tone was more musing than questioning, as though the thought had never occurred to him before.  Although Fenris knew a great deal about his husband, he was still a stranger to him.  They walked together down the halls and into the bedroom, during which Fenris remained puzzled as to who the man truly was. 

Within the walls of his home, in the comfort of his family, Anders was not the symbol of perseverance that rallied the armies.  The calm, gentle demeanor was a far cry from the defiant voice of the Prince’s cousin who supported the war.  The way he averted his eyes as Fenris changed did not pair well with the reports of him being a suave sensualist. 

“Do you recall much of the war?”  Fenris posed as he changed out his smalls. 

Anders turned to answer but immediately ducked his head back.  “I, no, not really.  Most of it is a blur.”

Anders’ little grin had not gone unnoticed, which led Fenris to believe the man interested, but respectful.  Unexpected.  Useful.

“A blessing then.”  Fenris intentionally clinked his belt to let Anders know when he was ‘decent’. 

“You’re not the first to say so.” 

The way he said it pained Fenris.  He wanted to help, knowing first hand what he had gone through.   He wanted to comfort him in some manner, but the inspiration was lacking.  Instead, he opted to stoically lead the way out of the estate. 

Outside, Fenris wrapped a heavy coat around himself and pulled the hood over his head to protect him from the sun.  They fell in step together as they walked the streets.  The first time Fenris had traversed them, he’d been met with stares of curiosity and anger.  Over time they changed to indifference, gradually transforming to appreciation.  His efforts to keep the peace in this oasis of freedom he’d claimed for himself soundly established him as trustworthy. 

With Anders at his side, he felt as though he were in a new city.  By the curious glances, word of Anders’ condition must have spread, as it is want to do in such tight knit communities. 

Fenris felt the need to protect his spouse and engaged him in idle conversation about the city’s goings-on to keep Anders from noticing how others looked at him.  

“So, anyone may eat at this Home Table you established?”  asked Anders.

“Of course.  There should be no distinction.  We are all people who are eager to mend a path forward, regardless of where we came from.” 

“It seems I have chosen a romantic.”  Anders affectionately ribbed Fenris.

“Pragmatist.  The encouragement of separation will only create greater problems.  It is in everyone’s best interest to minimize conflict.” 

Anders took Fenris by the hand, pausing their progress just outside the main door.  “Apologies.”  He pressed a soft kiss over the knuckles, then used his thumb to massage the palm.  “I had no intention of trivializing your efforts.  This is absolutely amazing.  Show me everything.”

Fenris did not pull his hand back and Anders never let go.  They toured the retrofitted warehouse that accommodated most of Fenris’ efforts.  The space was divided into sections for the separate functions; an eating area, a cooking area, storage for donated items, and an office with three staff members whose occupation consisted of finding work for those in need.  The program was funded mainly through Anders’ dowry with supplements coming from other nobles in the area.  Those who no longer needed the program typically donated time or small funds as they were able to repay the kindness. 

Throughout the facility, Anders would squeeze Fenris’ hand in excitement, at some point dragging him over to the newest spectacle that piqued his interest.  The fact that he wyasn’t upset that Fenris had spent so much of his inheritance on others came as an enormous relief. 

It also came to be another endearing quality. 

Anders was like an inquisitive child, enthusiastically soaking in all there was to learn.  He wanted everything to be documented for their trip to Nessum.  Fenris went along where Anders led, letting the reality hit him that this, this sweet caring man is who Anders genuinely was.  All the tension had left his shoulders.  The worry in his eyes dissipated, and there was even a new warmth in the way he smiled at Fenris. 

It was exciting and encouraging.  Fenris hadn’t waxed poetics for the sake of garnering the community’s support, he meant what he had said.  Nothing would please him more than to leave all of his hideous past behind.  The prospect of starting anew with such a vibrant man was promising. 

The entire day was spent in the city.  They visited employed Vints who’d built a new life.  Even seasoned residents who lost their businesses after the war found a new start with the help of Fenris’ program. 

And Anders was proud of him and said so numerous times.

When they spoke to others, Anders’ hand rubbed at the small of Fenris’ back.  Other times, he’d pull him close with a one-armed side hug.  Fenris enjoyed those the most, especially when their cheeks would touch, it felt so pure. 

As the hours wore on, Fenris became more comfortable reaching out for Anders.  By the end of the day, Fenris slipped his arm around Anders’ waist as they walked home.  It felt amazing.

Dinner was a pleasure as well.  Anders’ sisters pestered the married couple about traveling to Nessum, adamantly claiming that they hated the pair forever.  By the end of the meal, Fenris had a mental list of all the baubles and scarves requested they bring back. 

Dinner was interrupted by a messenger who brought news concerning one of the trade routes the family business used for animal transportation. 

Anders nuzzled close to Fenris’ ear, the tip played suggestively against his skin.  “That doesn’t concern us.  Why don’t we go to our bedroom?”

Fenris’ heart froze in his throat.  He feared he’d heard wrong until he felt Anders tug at his sleeve.  Although he stood on his own, he felt as if he were being swept off his feet.  “One does admire your directness.”

“Come then, I have to tell you something.”  Anders flashed a charming smile before leading the way. 

He liked this feeling, this freedom.  Yes.  This had to be what freedom felt like.  Carefree.  Hopeful that each new day would be better than the last. 

In the bedroom, Anders was quick to shut the door behind them and lead Fenris to the bed.  They sat staring at one another, Fenris’ nerves quivering to know why Anders had brought him here.

“I had a wonderful time today.  I hate that we have to leave so soon, there’s so much more I want to see.” 

Fenris took Anders’ hands in his.  “Then you shall.  I will follow you anywhere.”

Silently studying Fenris, Anders tilted his head to one side as though to see beyond where Fenris sat.  It was an expression he wasn’t wholly familiar with.  “Something the matter?”

“I don’t know what to make of you.”  Worry flitted in Anders’ eyes, then he compensated.  “I am at an utter loss as to how I could be so lucky to be with you.”

Fenris chastised himself for overanalyzing his husband.  He ignored the tiny doubt in his gut and pressed on.  “You are a charm of fortune.  Lucky to survive the war.  Lucky to come home to a family who loves you.”

“Love…”  Anders drew out the word as if savoring the flavor of each letter.  Fenris’ heart slammed against his ribcage at the possibilities that could be tagged onto that word.

Anders reached for his face, his thumb played at the rim of Fenris’ lip.  "I watched you at lunch today.  You should eat more, there's no need to actually eat like a sparrow, mein Spatz."

"Is it any reassurance to inform you I had a large breakfast?"  He caught Anders thumb, tilting his head to give it a teasing bite. 

"You have a greater appetite in the mornings then?"

Fenris drew closer, letting Anders hand slip around his neck then down his back.  Fenris' fingers reached out to trace Anders shoulder, mapping his desired target.  He made a delicate trail of kisses up Anders' neck.  

Sucking in a breath through his teeth, Anders craned his head up, encouraging Fenris' lips to travel over his jaw.  When Fenris’ tongue lapped at the rough start of a beard along his throat, Anders moaned.  The mage’s hands shot to Fenris' waist, pulling him over his body as Anders laid down.

Fenris let his voice rumble in Anders ear.  "I prefer to sate my hunger at night."

A faint growl, then Fenris took the ear's lobe in his mouth, nibbled, then he gave it a hard suck before release.  

Anders was breathless, panting.  His eyes heavy lidded and dreamy.  "Where you always this affectionate?"

"No.  I am making up for far too many days wasted."  Feeling bold, he feasted on Anders mouth.  Deep, wet and open mouthed, he devoured him, pressing their chests together with a surge.  Anders was a good man and Fenris wanted to claim him, he even pondered marking him in some way.  

A knock on the door killed the moment.  Katrine called through the door, “Fenris?  Did you still want to read tonight?”

He’d been so distracted all day that he’d completely forgotten his lessons.  He called through the room, “ _Kaffas,_ I’ll be right there.”

Anders defiantly curled his arms around Fenris, burying his face into his chest.  “Can’t we forget she knocked?”

Fenris sat up chuckling, smitten.  “You are the one with memory problems, not I.”  Although he disagreed with the suggestion, he was reluctant to leave.  Fenris ran his fingers through Anders long hair, to curve down over his jaw.  “I will stay if you wish.”

"No, no.  Please go.  I have no intention of getting in your way."  Anders took hold of Fenris’ hand, pulling him down to awkwardly kiss his cheek.  “I’ll be fine while you are busy.”

 

Fenris left his husband feeling disappointed but excited at returning.  He had been told on countless occasions that anticipation leads to the greatest pleasure.  He mulled on the thought all through his lessons.  It didn’t help that Katrine amended the lesson to include subtle romantic topics and words.  The lesson went well and passed relatively quickly. 

“How are things going between you and Anders?”  Katrine pried as she cleaned up at the end of the lesson.

“Quite well.”

She bubbled with laughter.  “Well?  Judging by that sassy smirk on your face it’s going better than ‘well’.” 

Refusing to give any details, the only response he offered was “perhaps.”

Fenris returned to his room with a light heart and a warm feeling in his chest. 

The empty chambers sucked it violently away.  Anders wasn’t there.  It was late, where else could he be?  Thinking logically, Fenris searched the kitchens, the courtyard and the stables.  Nothing. 

Recalling a conversation from supper, Herr VonMagie stated that Anders had become lost in the city earlier that day.  Panic swept through him at the thought of Anders being lost at night, especially since the temperatures typically droped to well below freezing.  Would he have even remembered to dress properly?

Fenris dressed hastily and bolted out into the night.  One by one he searched the streets.  The lamplights made seeking out Anders’ height an easier task, he was able to quickly eliminate areas based off silhouettes alone. 

Just as the thought occurred to him to ask the staff at the estate for help, he found him, or he thought he had.  There was a decent crowd gathered outside the Inn.  Fenris weaved through the throng to get a closer look. 

The man he followed went around the back, slipping away from the light and the noise.  Something didn’t feel right and it set Fenris’ old bodyguard instincts on edge.  He hadn’t brought any weapons with him, but he honestly didn’t need one.  He was more deadly naked than any man armed to the teeth. 

He slinked into the shadows as he drew closer.  When they reached the inn’s stables, he confirmed that it was indeed Anders.  That was a relief, but what was he doing back here? 

“Managed to slip away from your husband I see.”  A deep voice penetrated the night.  Seeking the source, Fenris found a dark-haired man with broad shoulders, muscles thicker than his own waist and a handsome beard.  His hairy arms reminded Fenris of a bear. 

Anders approached the stranger.  “I asked the staff to send word the moment you returned.  I couldn’t wait to see you.” 

Fenris fell to his knees unseen in the darkness, the single lantern in the stables unable to reveal the crushing sadness that wrecked his eyes. 

“I have to admit I rushed back to see you as well.” Answered the bear. 

Anders eyed the man skeptically, “You?  You rushed back for me?”

The man’s booming laugh echoed in the stables, startling a few of the animals.  “To save you of course!  Ha-ha!” 

At that, the stranger lunged at Anders and threw him over his shoulder and slapped at Anders’ rump.  “Let’s get you to my room so we can have a real chat.”

Anders laughed.

Fenris was crushed.

How?  How was it possible that anything could hurt this much?

Fenris trudged back home.  No one questioned his late-night roaming around the estate.  He’d done often enough when his nights were restless, none of the staff or family bothered him over much about it.  No one wanted to pry into his dreams.  Honestly, neither did Fenris.  It was why he slept on the balcony in the uncomfortable chair.  The last thing he wanted to do was dream.

However, this had been no dream.  It was a nightmare.  He’d seen it, felt it.  There had been so much hope, so much…everything that he’d truly thought that for once…he might be happy. 

Instead, at the first opportunity, Anders slipped away to see someone else. 

 

Slave.  Free man.  Either way, Fenris was disposable.

 

~*~

 

Anders was amazed that Hawke’s ridiculousness could still surprise him.  Garrett carried him all the way into the inn where they found Carver speaking with the innkeeper who gave a disapproving frown when he saw the two.

“Garrett?  Really?”  Carver counted out he last of the coin then led the way to their room, key in hand. 

Garrett’s smile only broadened.  “Can’t be too careful.  I have to make sure my battle-buddy is in good hands.”

“ _Pfft._ Good hands my ass.”  complained Anders. 

Hawke firmly squeezed Anders’ rear, “Don’t you know it.”

“Ew, seriously?  I’m right here.”  Carver opened the door to let them in. 

Garrett deposited Anders on the bed then clapped his hands together, a small semblance of seriousness permeating his joyful mood.  “Well, we have some good news and some bad news.  The bad news is that rumors are flying that an assassin has been sent to disrupt the talks in Nessum.  All information points to your husband as being the most likely suspect.”

“What?  But Fenris…he…”  Anders was struck dumb.  It was impossible, it didn’t feel right.

“Well wait, I’m not done yet.  The good news is that this means he’s not looking to kill you or your family so you’re totally safe!”  Hawke laughed as he gave Anders a firm pat on the back. 

Was Garrett fucking with him?  Anders turned to Carver, the man’s arms crossed over his chest as he leaned against the closed door.  “What is he talking about?  What happened while you guys were gone?”

“We met up with other Wardens.  They’ve been particularly interested in the Nessum talks since there’s need for more recruitment after the war.  The Warden Commander wants to send teams beyond the Anderfels to beef up the ranks.  If stability isn’t restored to the Anderfels, then the efforts will be pointless.  Either no one will want to join, the coin will run out from lack of secure patrons, or the Wardens will be forced to deplete their ranks in _another_ war with Tevinter.  The second whisperings cropped up about an assassin being sent to fuck up the talks, the Wardens began an investigation.”

Anders swallowed thickly.  “But.  Not, surely not Fenris?”

Carver eyed him skeptically, “Weren’t you the one to come to us saying he was a spy?  You were convinced but a day ago that this Vint was nothing more than a viper waiting to strike.”

Ducking his head to fidget with his fingers, Anders defended himself.  “I’ve gotten to know him better.  He can’t be faking _all_ of it, you know?  I mean, he…he’s done so much and the way that he…”

“What?  The way that he looks at you makes your knees weak?”  Teased Garrett.  “Does his voice make you swoon?  C’mon, you know better than to fall for a pretty face.”

“It’s not just that!”  Anders bit defensively. 

“Anders, have you considered that it’s all just part of an act?  If he’s an assassin, then – “

Anders jumped to his feet, cutting Carver off.  “Then he’s not doing it of his own free will.” 

The brothers glanced at each other, then back at Anders.  Carver broached the topic carefully, “I don’t think you understand.  Our sources are very reliable and if they say he’s our man, then he’s our man.”

“No, it can’t be.  I-he, it’s…I can’t believe it.  I’ve seen the scars his former Master ripped into his flesh.  If he is involved in this as you say, then it has to be because of that cocksucker.  Somehow he still has a hold on him and he’s just too afraid or brainwashed or something.”

“Look, is your family going to the talks or not?”  Garrett barked.

Anders sighed, guessing where this was going.  “Yes.  It’s just Fenris and I.”

“Take a step back and consider our position.  A Vint has embedded himself in the Crown Prince’s family and secured an invitation to the Nessum talks.  With you vouching for him, he will have free access to every noble with any influence in the Anderfels.  We have to take precautions.”  Garrett laid down the facts harshly, then softened his tone.  “I’m sorry.”

Anders felt as if the brightest part of the world had been snuffed out.  The idea of family and the quiet life slipped through his fingers.  The bloom of happiness shriveled away. 

He wiped at his eyes and cleared his throat.  “Alright.  What do we need to do?”


	5. Take a Step Back

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Preparations for Nessum and Anders making a startling discovery.

Anders took a long route home.  His thoughts, his feelings, and blunt reality were at war within him. 

Why had he been so quick to defend Fenris?  The Hawkes were right.  A connection with his family was an easy way to get close to the Crown Prince.  It all made sense.

And yet, Anders felt wrong when he tried to tag Fenris with a murderous label.  He’d spent a single day with him and somehow, he felt that Fenris was genuine.  He was modest, shied away from praise, intelligent, handsome… 

“You’re being an idiot!”  Even hearing himself say it out loud didn’t help to cement the reality of it.  “He’s a murderer, an actor, don’t let yourself get sucked in.”

Similar murmurings followed him home, each one incapable of swaying his gut feeling.  Standing at his front door, Anders steeled himself before crossing the threshold.  The plan was to wait and catch him in the act.  It was easy enough to have Fenris locked up just for being a Vint, but they needed some sort of proof to accuse Tevinter of intentionally sabotaging the negotiations. 

 _I’m not sure I can keep this up._   Anders complained to Garrett at the Inn.

_It’s easy, before you do anything think to yourself, ‘will this make the legendary Garrett Hawke throw up from the cuteness?’, then yes, do it.  You need to sell it so we can get to the bottom of all this.  We have to know if it’s a rogue noble or some ass-clown within the Magisterium.  Shit, we can’t even rule out the possibility of one of our own._

It wasn’t that Anders felt incapable of being affectionate.  He worried for himself.  Fenris was charming.  Despite the fact that the objective was clear, the mission a necessity, Anders couldn’t shake the feeling that he was spying on a dear friend.  Everything felt wrong and it was impossible for him to escape it.

The late hour brought complete darkness to the inside of the estate to save on wax and coals.  It was second nature for Anders to cast a small ball of light in his hand as a guide through the halls.  At his bedroom door, he leapt back in surprise when the door flew open on its own.  Fenris bared his teeth, sword in hand, ready to strike. 

Recognizing Anders, his sword dropped to his side, his head slumped low.  “My apologies.  The magic.” 

Anders remained pressed against the opposite wall, working to process what had happened in a matter of seconds.  “Magic?  My magic bothers you?”

“All magic.  There is lyrium in my tattoos and it makes me sensitive to the use of magic.  Do not concern yourself, I shall adapt.”  Fenris mumbled, then turned to slink further into the room.

“Wait!”  Anders called as he jogged to catch up.  “What is wrong?  What about the magic?  You lived in Tevinter, wouldn’t you be accustomed to it by now?”  His quarters were dark, but even absent the light he could tell the bed sheets had not been touched.  “Were you waiting up for me?”

“You talk too much.”  Fenris whirled around to ensnare Anders in a sensual embrace, kissing him breathless.   That deep, rich, husky voice played in the shell of his ear.  “Have sex with me.”

“ _Mmm, yess~_ ” sighed Anders, his body’s wants overriding logic.

He watched Fenris head to the bed where he began to strip.  Anders reached for his own clothing, hesitant.  Was he doing the right thing? 

Of course.  Tevinter hired this assassin to do whatever it took to get the job done.  In essence, they had purchased him a whore.  This was his job and for Anders to keep up his act, he needed to play his part. 

Fully devested of his clothes, Fenris settled himself on the bed with his back propped up on a pile of pillows.  His hands ran over his smooth, bare skin, wedging down to his thighs to push his legs wide open.  Anders watched with hungry eyes as Fenris’ sac fell lazily, exposing his cock. 

The display was delicious and teasing.  Anders smiled with delight.  Finally, a chance at foreplay.  A concept wholly foreign to Garrett.  He stroked his cock while using one hand to remove the rest of his clothes.  He savored the slower pace, enjoying how it heightened the anticipation.  Anders smiled as he grew rock hard in his hand. 

However, with Fenris, it wasn’t so.  The assassin went through the motions, smiled, and toyed with the tight ring of his ass, but there was no indication of arousal.   

 _Perhaps he needs a little more encouragement_ thought Anders.  He used his tongue to wet his thumb before he squeezed his full-blown erection and spread the saliva over the tip.  It felt amazing, a long-denied feeling that was coming fresh to the surface again.  His heart fluttered and his breathing deepened as he approached the bed.  Crawling over Fenris’ body, he could feel the other man’s heat. 

Anders wanted this.  Badly. 

However, after one encouraging buck of his hips and kiss to the mouth he discovered, Fenris was not interested.  Where Anders’ hardness lay deliciously sandwiched between their bodies, Fenris remained soft.  He nudged with his hips and suckled on the elf’s neck, hoping – but nothing happened.

In a flash, Anders became distressed, second guessing his plan.  Second guessing everything, letting his gut provide the alternative.  What if Fenris wasn’t an independent assassin working for money?  What if he was still a slave, tortured or brainwashed to do his Master’s bidding?  There’s doing one’s job, but everyone had limits.  This was a hard limit for Anders.  For Anders, it felt too much like rape.  He couldn’t do it.

Falling to one side, he groaned and mumbled into the pillow, still tangled in Fenris’ limbs. 

Fenris rolled to his side, “Anders?” 

“I’m sorry to get your hopes up, but I’m too tipsy to do you any justice.”

“Did I do something wrong?”

“No, of course not.”  Anders wiggled closer to Fenris, resting his head on a firm pec.  “I’m too drunk.  That’s all.”

The silence stretched, Anders had no inclination to break it, everything he thought to say only sounded more suspicious.  Moments later, Fenris issued his wishes for a good night’s sleep as he moved to get out of bed. 

Impulsively, Anders clung harder, refusing to let go.  “You don’t have to leave.”

“It is for the best.”  Fenris slipped through his fingers, pulled on a pair of loose pants then walked out onto the balcony. 

Anders pulled the covers over himself as he sat up to watch him go.  Judging by the pile of blankets and pillows already in the large chair, this wasn’t the first night Fenris had slept there. 

The feeling was still there.  That nagging tug at his gut that something was wrong.  Why couldn’t he put his finger on it?  He’d stopped himself, hadn’t he?  Shouldn’t he feel better about not taking advantage of him? 

Frustrated and horny, Anders plopped over.  He’d be glad when all of this was over. 

 

~~~

 

Fenris woke with a start.  His heart raced when he saw the sun’s glow rising above the horizon.

_Danarius will be furious._

His muscles tensed at the thought of a flogging.  The cat o’ nine tails had become a recurring favorite.  The thought of the barbs falling into the incessant rhythm of ‘ _catch, tug, rip_ ’ set his feet to task.  Rushing through the bedroom he prepared the dressing table, readied the shaving kit, then hurried to the wardrobe pulling out a set of clean robes.  The drab brown colors startled him, fear stopping his heartbeat. 

Then, the world came to focus.

Fenris bit his tongue as punishment.  These types of impulses had waned in recent months but when Anders used his magic, that familiar feeling brought back too many unpleasant memories and instinctive routines.

Checking the bed, Anders still slept.  Thankfully, none was witness to his embarrassing display.  Fenris ground his teeth.  He hated the reminder that he used to be no better than a lap dog.  Even a filthy War Hound had a mind of its own. 

 _Kaffas!_   Would he ever be free?  His mind made him feel claustrophobic.  Trapped. 

Hate felt like acid on his tongue. 

Hate for what they did to him.

Anger at himself for conforming to it. 

Unwilling to lash out at the room for his failings, he sat on the floor to meditate.  He needed to focus on his task – survival.  There had been so much hope that Anders would want a meaningful relationship.  An about face from the world that he’d known in Tevinter.  He’d observed so many couples, seen the happiness the intimacy brought them, but those hopes were crushed at his discovery of the liaison in town.  Fenris had made one last ditch effort claim Anders’ attention with his offer of sex, but that had been curtly rejected. 

A new approach was called for and he mournfully came to grips with it.  Once the country was more stable, he could file for divorce, freeing Anders from any misplaced obligation and go out on his own.  Where, he didn’t care.  All he wanted was to escape the lie.  As frustrating as Anders’ amnesia could be at times, in the greater scheme of things, it was honestly a blessing.  Some things shouldn’t be remembered.  Breaking Point in particular. 

The sensation of Fenris’ feet sinking into bloated corpses surfaced.  When he pushed it aside, the memory of heat, another’s blood pouring through the joints of his armor snaked under his skin.  Wide, unseeing eyes of comrades that never received funeral rites.  Slaves who fought for freedom and never had the chance to savor it. 

The gut-rotting feeling of failure to protect those he cared for most.

Fenris clasped a hand around his wrist, pressing the cool metal bracelet to his skin.  Yes, some things, some words, were best left forgotten.

~~~

The following two days fell into a pattern.  Both he and Anders worked the stables in the morning, then spent the afternoon compiling notes and drafting proposals to present to the Crown.  Anders was amicable, but decidedly more distant than before his visit to the Inn.  Perhaps the man he met was an old flame and Fenris’ half-cocked plan of self-preservation ruined their plans for a future together. 

In this context, Anders behavior made more sense.  He responded and accommodated Fenris out of a sense of obligation.  Had he not been consumed by the preparations for Nessum, Fenris would have offered to annul their partnership immediately.  Worried that Anders might have memory issues on the road, or worse, at the Talks, he decided to wait and present that option once his own obligations were dispensed.  Fenris would be a broke vagabond again, but at least one of the Heroes of the Anderfels wouldn’t suffer a loveless marriage.  Well, a one-sided one at that. 

Although the rejection stung, Fenris accepted it.  Honestly, he couldn’t have expected better.  He had, but he had been a fool to have done so. 

 

The final night in town, the Hawkes came to dinner.   Now, Fenris had a name to place on his husband’s lover – Garrett Hawke.  As longtime friends of the family, Garrett had plenty of childhood stories to share.  The sisters encouraged his obscene stories, especially his voice imitations.  Being loud and obnoxious only added to the list of reasons Fenris didn’t care for him.  He understood that many found such outgoing personalities endearing, but it was too much for Fenris’ taste.  Perhaps why Anders didn’t see him as an acceptable spouse. 

The night wore on and Fenris did as he did as he’d been trained to do – smile when appropriate and hide how he truly felt.  His manners were beyond reproach and his discomfort, his heartache, was securely hidden. 

Viewing his behavior as being no different than his work as a bodyguard, Fenris had thought the night would have been easy, yet Anders made it so damn difficult.  He always offered his arm, pulled out chairs, included Fenris in the discussions, relied on him to jog his memory, and gave tender pecks to Fenris’ cheek.  It was torture.  A small window in the world promised to another lover.  A world that wasn’t meant for him.    

Garrett monopolized the evening with his annoying ability to talk without end.  He carried the conversation through dinner and when everyone retreated to the family room afterward, he continued with even wilder stories no that he had space for his hands to gesture freely.  It was when he began to include magic in his stories, that Anders asked him to stop.  The other mage was confused, but Anders offered no explanation, keeping Fenris’ aversion a secret.  The bear of a man shrugged it off, yet obliged.  While he trailed off, Anders leaned in close whispering to Fenris “you alright?”

“Thank you for your concern.  I am…”  Thinking on it, Fenris decided to take advantage of the opportunity.  “I am actually in need of some air.  Excuse me.”

Outside on the terrace Fenris took a deep breath of the crisp night air.  He liked how far they were from the sea, how the dry air pricked at his lungs.  Not a single aspect of it reminded him of Tevinter.  The tranquility only lasted as long as his exhale. 

“Mind if I join you?”  It was the other Hawke, Carver.  Unlike his brother, at least Carver had some semblance of rationality.  Fenris found him to be straightforward and certainly more diplomatic than Garrett.  Fenris saw the toll of war on him the more so than Garrett.  As the younger of the two, he’d grown into a man surrounded by horrors.   Where the war shaped Carver to seek out alternatives to conflict, for Garrett, it taught him to brush off reality with humor and sarcasm. 

“I would be glad to speak with you.  Your brother presents few opportunities to do so.”  Fenris took a seat and gestured for Carver to do the same. 

“I have to admit, at times I need a break from Garrett as well.”  Carver laughed.  He chose an easy topic – a complaint.  Nothing bonding people more readily than mutual annoyances. 

“He has a strong presence, that is certain.”  Fenris relaxed further, hoping to drag out their time away from the rest.  “You are to join us along our journey to Nessum.”

“Yeah, yeah.  I had hoped to spend more time in town, but ya know, duty and stuff.”  Carver ruffled his hair, then readjusted the way he sat. 

The man was anxious, purposefully avoiding fidgeting.  Fenris was tempted to peel away at Carver’s mannerisms to get to the core of his unease, but he reminded himself, _you are no longer seeking out threats.  His business is not your own._   The additional company along the journey actually played well into Fenris’ plan.  Propriety was an easy excuse to put distance between himself and Anders.

“How are things going between you and Anders?”  An idle question that felt more probing than it sounded.

“He still lacks any memory of our meeting.  I do not fault him this.  When we met during Breaking Point, it was possibly the worst part of the war.  Desperation on both sides led to atrocities that are best left forgotten.” 

Carver nodded thoughtfully.  “I know what you mean.  I was with the twelfth brigade.  The losses…were…significant.  Chilling.”

“The twelfth.”  Fenris reached back into his eidetic memory, mentally unrolling the maps he’d memorized from his Master.  _Former_ Master.  “That is not far from where we were.”

“We?”

“Yes.  Anders and I met while he was attached to the eighth cavalry.”

“Really?”  Carver’s demeanor shifted. 

Suddenly, there was something off about this family friend.  For Fenris, it set off warning bells of ulterior motive and he decided to become more guarded in his recounting. 

“CARVER!  FENRIS!”  Garrett had called as if to draw the two back into the home, but instead, he barged out onto the terrace.  “What are you two kill-joys talking about?”

Anders and his sisters were right behind the bear-man.

“Your impressive physique and indominable stamina.”  Fenris offered, knowing how well the words would stroke the man’s ego.

“I know right?!”  Garrett flexed his muscles.  Carver rolled his eyes, but shot a grin at Fenris, recognizing the play on Garrett’s vanity. 

“Oh, yes.  It is easier to appreciate in the moon’s light.  Thank you for the demonstration.”  This time Carver had to feign coughing to hide his laughter at Fenris’ goading.  Anders was not as tactful since he openly chuckled, attracting the showboat’s attention.

“Doubt me do you?”  Garrett lunged forward to snatch Anders up.

Anders protested, “Hawke no!”

“Hawke yes!”  Garrett ended up cradling Anders like a damsel in distress.  “Perhaps a better example would be picking up your sisters.  Combined they would present a better testament than your skinny ass.”

Carver had to laugh at Anders discomfort.  “Thankfully he is so skinny, otherwise that old man wouldn’t have been able to drag his ass to our camp!”

The entire family laughed heartily at Anders expense, as their target squirmed and kicked to get his feet back on the ground. 

Katrine was the first to catch her breath.  “Oh, Anders.  Did some old man seriously drag you through the battles?”

Anders straightened his clothes, ready to respond but Garrett beat him to it.  “Ha-ha!  You know our Anders, always willing to help.  Poor bastard got caught unawares while healing some bloke.  Took a club to the side, sending his ass flying- “

Carver leapt up and punched his brother harshly on the shoulder.  “Shut it!  We’re not in the barracks anymore you ass!”

An uncomfortable silence fell over the group.  Garrett mumbled and apology, but it was so quiet, the words were indecipherable. 

Quickly, albeit nervously, Anders tried to set his family at ease.  “Don’t worry, Garrett is making things up again, he’s just trying to get a rise out of me.”

A few more calming words sent his sisters back inside to check on their father and ask after desserts.

Garrett approached Anders, “I’m sorry, I didn’t know you didn’t tell your family about that.”

“The war was brutal enough, there’s no need for you making shit up.”  Anders punched Garrett’s other arm.

Fenris watched as both the Hawkes exchanged glances that spoke volumes.  They tensed in a manner that made the back of Fenris’ neck prickle.  Suddenly, Carver’s behavior earlier wasn’t so easily dismissed.  There was _definitely_ something strange going on.  When they looked to Fenris for some comment, he kept his mouth shut.  Let the dice fall where they may. 

“Um, Anders.  I’m not making that up.  You were fucked up three ways from a Fereldan Tuesday when you were brought to our camp.  Don’t you remember?”

“I wasn’t injured, I had a cold.  That’s all.”

“No, you were a flesh sack filled with broken bones, _then_ you got pneumonia.”  Garret corrected gracefully.  “Think on it, how else did you make it so far from the cavalry?” 

Anders mused and Fenris was intrigued to see that this lapse in memory affected him more so than the other instances.  This was the first one he faced with complete denial.  “No, you must be mistaken for someone else.  I was sick.  The whole war, that battle in particular was an absolute mess.  You have to be confusing me with some other handsome blonde.”

His attempt at a joke fell flat.  The Hawkes eyed Fenris again, they wanted him to leave, but were loath to straight up say so.  Fenris crossed his arms over his chest, hinting he could read their thoughts.  He wasn’t going anywhere. 

“This isn’t funny Anders.”  Carver looked to his brother imploringly.

Garrett nodded and stepped close to Anders.  “Let me do an examination and I’ll prove it to you.”

There was a subtle hint to his tone, its meaning made clear when Anders asked, “Fenris, can you give us some privacy please?”

Fenris debated a refusal briefly, as the man’s spouse, he could easily stake claim to his rights, but thought better of it.  “As you wish.”

He left, exiting through an empty room connected to the terrace.  Once out of sight, he sprinted down the hallway then up a back set of stairs to reach the guest quarters which had a window conveniently perched over the terrace.  With nimble fingers, he silently unhitched the clasp, cracking the window to find out what in the Void was going on. 

“…I would know if I had a hole in my memories!”  Anders practically shouted.

“Not so loud.”  Hissed Carver.

Garrett soothed, “Easy there.  I can prove you were in bad shape because I had to bargain with a spirit to save your life.” 

Appalled, Fenris craned his head to peek down below.  He watched as Hawke placed a hand on Anders’ midriff.  He felt a tingle of magic being cast over Anders.  Then he felt it.  Usually when a mage called on the Fade for its power, Fenris could feel the tugging, a rough pulling like a needle through thick fabric. This was wholly different.  The sensation felt as if the Veil itself were being pushed from the other side.  It was gentle, somewhat like a hand skimming through a calm pond.  Natural. 

As someone who had been privy to many a blood rituals, Fenris was amazed to see and feel the difference.  He leaned further out the window, curious to know more, mentally urging Hawke to explain what was happening.

“How many months has it been since then?  Eight?  Ten?  The spirit still lingers.  I am not exaggerating when I said you were at death’s door.  Damn Anders, you were practically picking out curtains for your room.”  Garrett changed the flow, this time was the familiar tugging Fenris was accustomed to from regular spells. 

As the spell worked, Garrett pulled Anders’ shirt loose and up.  Where there was once unscathed flesh now displayed mangled clumps that were healed together with massive lacerates.  The skin was an angry red mixed with purple edges and spots of tender green and yellow. 

“I did what I could, but I couldn’t save your life.  The spirit, it’s what’s keeping you alive, keeping you from feeling-“ he waved his hand over half Anders’ body, “ _this._ All I could do was provide the illusion so you wouldn’t throw up every time you looked in the mirror.”

Anders swallowed thickly.  “I- uh, put it away please.”

Garrett restored the illusion and the strong presence of the spirit faded as well. 

Carver checked behind Anders, ensuring they were alone.  “You’re sure you don’t remember any of this?”

“No.”  Breathed Anders as he slowly slipped into a chair. 

“Shit, what does this mean fo- “ Garrett was cut off when a cactus wren called out from the roof ledge nearby. 

Fenris had always hated the noisy bastards.  They tended to spook the camels.  He swiftly ducked back into the room.  Not taking the chance that either of the Hawkes would come to investigate the open window, he sprinted with as much stealth as he could muster to his quarters.  Delicately closing the door behind him, Fenris let go of the breath he’d held the whole journey.  It came out shaky, sending a tremor through his core. 

Spirits?

Possessions?

What sort of nightmare mess had he gotten involved in?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have 2k more, but it was a shift in POV, so it'll be in the next update!


	6. Evaluate What is Important (NSFW)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Double Check Tags as they have changed**  
> Fic is now explicit. Probably not a surprise for most :P

"Ignore than damn bird for a minute.  Carver, don't fuck with me, did that happen?  Did that really happen?"  Anders felt dizzy, disoriented. 

"Yes.  Right after the tide of the war shifted following Breaking Point, our unit finally got a chance to regroup and take a breather.  We pushed forward, finally holding ground, most of us exhausted from for weeks straight of fighting."

"Four weeks?"  When he first came home, he’d purposefully tried to avoid thinking about the war and that that he was…it was more difficult than he’d anticipated.  Four weeks.  He didn’t think the battle had been that long.

"Yes.  An old man dragged you into our camp.  He told us what happened then begged for healing.  The rest is just as Garrett says.  He patched you up and right as it looked like you were going to pull through, you came down with pneumonia."  Carver was a serious as he’d ever been in his life.  There was no hint of teasing and it frightened Anders

"So, wait, wait.  Adding the four weeks of Breaking Point, then the two weeks of pneumonia..."

"Don’t forget the the seventeen days with the spirit healing."  Supplied Garrett.

"Andraste's knicker weasels."  Anders groaned as he nervously scratched at his beard.  "That's the last time I jinx myself by feigning an injury."

Garrett chuckled, “Perhaps I should feign celibacy at the first tavern we stay at."  This time Garrett dodged Carver's fist.  

But not Anders’.  "Thanks for your compassion.  I am- I have no idea what to think any more."

Garrett rubbed his abused shoulder.  "Okay, so the amnesia story is a little more true than you thought, so what?"

"Fenris claims to have met him at Breaking Point."  Carver answered.

"Oh."  After a few seconds, the rest of the pieces fell in place for Garrett.  "Oh, shit."

"I know!”  Anders fell into a chair, physically exhausted from the revelation.  “He really could be telling the truth."

"But our reports specify an elf, dark skin, scrolling tattoos, and light hair.  How many have you met fitting that description?" Carver said.

Many of the Tevinter refugees were elves, dark skinned, but not a one other than Fenris had white hair and tattoos.  

"Are you sure you're up for this?  We can easily escort Fenris ourselves." Offered Garrett.

"I am not weak."  Snapped Anders.  "I can do this.  I've kept it up for the past few days haven't I?  A few days to meet up with the Crown's convoy, another week to reach Nessum.  I will make it happen."

Amongst mural agreement, they returned inside to wish the rest of the family good night since their journey began before dawn.

In the bedroom, Anders and Fenris’ packed bags rested next to the door.  All the lights were out and Anders didn’t dare cast a spell.  If Fenris had been so sensitive to sense magic down the hall, then casting now would only wake him.  The twilight provided enough illumination for Anders to make out Fenris’ form slumped in the chair on the balcony. 

Who was this man?  Each time Anders looked at him, there was a tug at his heart.  It was more than just the heat in his core stirring his loins - that was nice.  However, it was being near Fenris, working with him that _felt_ right.  As handsome as he was, Anders’ greatest desire was to hold him.  Protect him. 

Running a hand through his hair, he let the man sleep in peace as he whispered to himself, “What in the Void is wrong with me?”

Confused and stressed, Anders slid into bed with his mind an utter mess. 

 

In the morning, Fenris was the first up and carried their luggage down to the stables before Anders was even dressed.  He was helpful, kind, and regretfully distant the entire time they prepared for the journey. 

Anders often reached for his hand, but there was no reciprocating squeeze.  He would peck Fenris on the cheek, but Fenris’ lips never touched when he kissed back.  Fenris’ eyes seemed vacant and tired, his responses were shorter than usual.  Regardless, Anders persisted.

They were taking a small caravan with them, eight camels, twenty lambs, and twenty goats.  Two camels were strapped down with the tents, supplies, and baggage while the other two were strapped down with the lambs and feed for rest of the animals.  Most of what they took with them were gifts for the Crown. 

Fenris made one final inspection of the camels’ fittings before deftly lifting himself on his own mount.  He wrapped a scarf over his mouth and drew his hood over his head.  Their route would be through a desolate area where sand storms are prevalent.  Anders wouldn’t have the option to offer sharing his mount, herding the goats required multiple riders and the Hawkes weren’t as adept at the skill.  Doing so required a certain balance of firm directions without spooking them to sprint off in fear. 

Anders climbed atop his camel, the Hawkes following suit.  The sun had just begun to rise by the time they were at the outskirts of the city.  Without the protection of the buildings, the winds picked up and Anders had to tuck his face away just a Fenris had. 

The day passed with nothing of significance happening.  They reached their waypoint early and set up camp since it was one of the few watering spots before hitting the main highway that would take them to Nessum.  The Hawkes set up a pen for the lambs and goats while Anders and Fenris set up their sleeping tent.  The roof was a red fabric woven into the shape of an octagon.  The center poles were shoulder height while the ones around the perimeter came to the waist.  Although the walls were attached with leather lacings, the shorter the structure was, the easier it was to hold up to the nightly winds. 

They lined the interior floor with pelts and rolls of woolen blankets were set out for the men to sleep, making it obvious that the tent could only accommodate the four of them.  Fenris and Anders finished just as the Hawkes were ready to off load the lambs into the travel pen.  It was another hour and a half before the chores were complete and the group gathered in the tent. 

Fenris was the only one who didn’t relax onto the floor immediately.  Instead he pulled out the sack of coals. 

Anders waved him away from the metal coal pit set in the center of the tent.  “You don’t need to do that.  You’ve done more than your fair share.”

His tension didn’t ease, if anything, he became stiffer.  “Thank you, however, I am unaccustomed to being idle.”

“You wanna kill the rabbits?  I wouldn’t mind taking a load off.”  Said Hawke as he stretched out over his bedroll. 

Carver kicked at his foot, “Nice try, but you’re with me.  C’mon.”

Garrett groaned, rolled over, then followed his brother outside.  Anders remained seated, keeping his attention on the coals as he worked clumsily with the flint. 

“Use your magic.  You should not concern yourself with me.” 

Turning to look over his shoulder, Anders wasn’t sure how to take the man’s comment.  He felt personally hurt despite the fact there wasn’t a single currant of malice to Fenris’ tone.

“Have I offended you?”

“No.” 

“Are you mad at me?”

“No.”

Frustrated, Anders found it difficult to avoid yelling.  “Then what have I done to push you away?  Why are you so cold to me all of a sudden?  Talk to me!”

Fenris rubbed at his temple with a hand.  “You talk too much.”

“And you not enough.”  Anders reached for Fenris’ shoulder. 

Fenris avoided Anders’ gaze and stared at the ceiling.  “What are we doing Anders?”

 _Okay, absolutely not the direction I expected this to go._   “We’re talking, working things out just like any couple.”

“We are not a couple.  Are we?  We pretend.”  It was delivered with such calm and neutrality, Anders felt compelled to shake some emotion out of him. 

 _Pretend._   Did he know about Hawke’s plan?  Was the game up?  _Holy Maker,_ fear gripped Anders’ heart like a vice.  _Is he ready to kill me?_

Fenris paused, reading Anders’ expression in the dim light.  If he had a guess at Anders’ thoughts, he chose not to remark on them.  “We both pretend that we can simply pick up where we left off.  Clearly, it cannot be so.  I will assist you in Nessum.  I will do whatever is necessary to help with the refugees.  Afterward, I will trouble you no longer.” 

Anders wanted to spill into another round of questions, but became distracted as Fenris worked at something around his wrist.  The item had been hidden under his gloves.  Once loose, he dropped it in Anders’ hand.  “You may pursue your love interests at your own discretion.”

The necklace was unmistakable.  Anders knew its feel, the weight, even the damn taste before it was dropped in his hand.  The leather cord was dark from age and grime.  The copper coin held little monetary value with the hole pierced through it, but that was not why Anders’ considered it a prized possession.  He’d thought it lost to the tides of war, forgotten in some mass grave or buried in blood soaked mud somewhere on the front lines.

It was a glücksbringer his sisters made for him.  Each side of the coin was adorned with a tiny painted ladybug, one done by each sister, intended to bring him luck and keep him safe in battle.

Conscious of Anders skepticism, Fenris stated, “I assume you do not recall giving this to me.”

Anders had memories of holding the coin before battles, of kissing the ladybugs when he missed his family.  At least, he thought he had.  Did it get left behind at the house and he only wished he’s had the trinket?  Maybe Fenris had riffled through his things to claim this a gift?  Or perhaps he’d lost it on a battle field somewhere?  If so, how’d Fenris come to have it?  Thumbing the glücksbringer, Anders felt lost to the Fade, a speck of dust floating along in a world that held so little logic.  He couldn’t trust his own memories.

Bewildered, Anders was at a loss for constructive commentary.  “I don’t remember losing this.”

“You gave it to me.”  Fenris repeated.  Firm and definitive, as though he believed it. 

So many lies.  All Anders wanted was the truth.  “Do we have to play this game?”

“I have no desire to, which is why I am informing you that I will be gone at the conclusion of our business in Nessum.” 

Anders’ entire being screamed at the thought of Fenris leaving.  He couldn’t allow it, he had to find some way to stop him.  “So, this is it then.  You decide without asking me what I think or if I could make things better between us?” 

“I offered you sex.  Your rejection spoke volumes.”

Panic.  He was losing him.  The divide between them grew to a chasm.  Desperate to bridge the gap, he reached for Fenris’ hand.  “Maker no, no.  That’s not it at all.  I-“ 

Anders wanted to tell him, _I think that your former Master may be playing you like a puppet._   He wanted to lay his heart bare, expose Garrett’s plan and let Fenris explain himself.  He wanted to reassure him that he was safe and would always be free.  _Just tell him._

Staring into his deep emerald eyes Anders felt separate from the rest of the world.  Moving closer, Anders felt the truth sitting at the tip of his tongue, _I’m afraid you’re a spy._

Did he really believe that?  Would he be this close, this romantically entangled if he honestly believed that?

Anders chose the half-truth.  “You didn’t act like you wanted it, I wasn’t going to force myself on you.”

Fenris’ face became horribly distorted with confusion, “What?  I- you cannot be serious?  I spread myself for you, all you had to do was fall in.  I even- _kaffas,”_ Fenris jerked his hand back.  “Is it my fault that I’m not Garrett Hawke?”

“Garrett? You’re worried about he and I?”  Does a spy get jealous?  “There’s nothing between us.  Not anymore. I-I held back because…because…”  _Are you really going to call him out now?_

Anders closed his eyes to gather up his nerves.  “It felt like you did it out of obligation.  Not because you wanted to.”  His heart pounded loudly in his chest.  “When I first came home.  When you took me in your arms and kissed me.  I can’t begin to describe how that passion overwhelmed me.  I came onto you that night because I thought that desire was still there.  When it wasn’t, I backed off.  I would never take advantage of you.  No matter what.”

“Your explanation is understandable.”  Fenris looked down as he fidgeted with his fingers.  “I understand our present situation however, I am uncertain as to how we shall proceed.  I have lost you once.  Mourned you.  That is a pain I do not wish to endure twice.  If you want me gone, say so now.”

“Maker’s balls!  Can you stop it!  Just stop it!”  Anders’ outburst caused Fenris’ spine to stiffen but he made no attempt to move away.  His confusion was painted clearly across his face.  “I can’t take it anymore.  “I want to believe.  Tell me.  Tell me this hasn’t all been some manipulative fantasy.  Tell me that you felt it too.  Tell me that you care for me as I do for you.  Please, I have to know.”

“You doubt my intentions?”

“I doubt everything!  Fuck me.”  Anders ran a hand through his hair.  “My mind is so scattered, I don’t know what to believe.”

“This conversation is distressing you.  Perhaps it is best if we retire and you get some rest.” 

“No.  This happens now.  Why are you here?  Are we even married?” 

Lacking any emotion, Fenris answered plainly.  “No.  We are not.” 

The stiff delivery had Anders wondering if Fenris expected some type of reprisal for his bluntness and deception.  Honestly, he was unprepared for the way that information crushed him.  His breath was knocked clean from his chest and he found himself struggling to breathe.  Why did he want this so badly?  “So.  You’re not lying to me, are you?”

Slightly offended, Fenris crossed his arms over his chest.  “I have never lied to you.”

Quietly they sat as Anders worked to piece himself back together.  All the bits of information and half-memories like a jigsaw puzzle.  He stared down at the glücksbringer resting in his palm.  It meant the world to him, more than he’d realized until seeing it once again. 

“Please,” Anders words were wet and his mouth trembled.  “ _Please_ …I don’t want it to be a lie.” 

Fenris began to answer, is mouth parted and it broke Anders in half.  He rushed the elf and ensnared him in a tight embrace.  Anders feasted greedily on him, tasting his mouth, his neck, his ears, caressing and massaging in just the right ways to coax salacious moans from within Fenris’ core.  Fenris’ wanton response only frightened Anders further.  He needed this, needed it so urgently as if he were on the brink of death and Fenris was the elixir. 

His body pressed Fenris flat on the thick wolf pelt.  He pushed himself up, breaking the kiss but grinning madly as he admired the sexy man spread beneath him.  “I want to make love to you.”

“That…escalated rather quickly.”

“I can’t think straight when it comes to you but I know what I feel.  My heart skips a beat when you smile, my chest swells with pride at your accomplishments, my skin prickles when you kiss me.  I’ve never had anyone make me feel this way before.  When I look at you, I know that things can be different.  Let me pleasure you.  Make love with me.”

“Not sex.” Fenris’ chest rose and fell.  He hesitated.  Then, he pressed shuddering lips to Anders’ for a soft kiss.  Worried.  Over-calculated.  “I do not understand the difference.”

“I will be happy to demonstrate.  Do you want me to?” 

A small nod from Fenris set Anders’ hands to work.  Straddling his waist, Anders’ unwrapped Fenris layer by layer.  Each patch of skin grew as he pushed the fabric out of the way.  A giddiness put a small tremor in his fingers, like a virgin on his first night.  Fenris remained nervous beneath him, unmoving due to his uncertainty. 

Anders smiled, stopping at a bare torso before removing his own clothing.  “Let me know what you like.  I’m at your command.”

He kicked off his breeches and dropped to his knees between Fenris’ legs.  A deep kiss to the mouth had Anders taking a deep breath, savoring the smell.  Fenris was grimy and sweaty, rough.  It was intoxicating, “Fuck you smell amazing.”

Anders dipped down, lining Fenris’ neck with sucking kisses.  He nipped at the collarbone, which garnered mild interest.  Slipping lower, he flicked his tongue over a nipple.

Fenris instantly arched his back, sucking in a breath through his teeth.  Grinning, he left a glob of spit then went to the other side with his tongue as his thumb played with the wet nipple.  Fenris continued to squirm with some restraint, careful not to interrupt Anders’ play.  When Anders gave him a thick suck, Fenris groaned with abandon, his volume unchecked.

“Anders.  I need- _ngunh!_ ” 

Anders stopped and pressed himself up to watch Fenris’ hand shoot to his cock.  Scooting down, Anders freed Fenris of his breeches, watching as he stroked himself hard, panting. 

“Don’t stop.” Commanded Anders

Spreading Fenris’ legs wider, Anders eased his face between them, wedging himself low to press his mouth to his taint.  Fenris’ hips bucked, an unidentifiable curse slicing through his gasps. 

Anders pulled back, “Again?  Or is it too much?” 

Swiftly, Fenris snared Anders hair and shoved it back where it was, rocking it in time to his hand strokes.  Anders’ nose teased at the ball sac as he lapped and sucked greedily.  He worked the delicate cords of muscle with his mouth a while longer before adding his fingers to the tease. 

Anders moved up, skimming the base of Fenris’ cock with his lips, he whispered against the damp skin, “Does this feel good?”  He pressed his index finger over Fenris’ tight ring of muscle. 

Fenris wrapped his legs over Anders’ shoulders, his ankles locking together.  “ _More~”_

“I’ll have to use magic to make it comfortable for you.”

Fenris’ fingers fisted in his hair tighter and pulled.  “Do it.” 

If Fenris’ husky voice was sexy before, hearing it raspy and out of breath was sinful.  No one should get so hard from a man’s voice like this.  Carefully, Anders cast a spell to help ease his finger into Fenris, all the while he kept licking at the man’s shaft.  Fenris squeezed his thighs tighter around Anders’ head and he couldn’t help but chuckle as he added another finger.  Together, they swirled and massaged inside and out.  Fenris rocked his hips, urging Anders deeper. 

“I want you.”  Whispered Fenris

“You have me.”

Fenris craned his head up to catch Anders’ eyes.  “I want you.  In me.”

His plea was all hunger, his cock hard as steel.  This was how it should be.  “Mein spatz~” 

Anders gave Fenris one long lick before wrapping his mouth over the tip and easing the elf down his throat.  He tenderly pressed up with his buried fingers in rhythm to the way his head bobbed on Fenris’ delicious cock.  The taste of his skin was electrifying.  He savored it, taking his time as he moved up and down, his tongue lavishing all the attention the magnificent cock deserved. 

“Stop, please stop!”  Fenris called out.

Instantly, Anders removed himself, backing away to sit on his haunches.  “I’m sorry-”

“No!”  Fenris dragged himself up and climbed onto Anders lap.  Fenris’ tongue swept over Anders’ lips which he then nibbled lovingly.  “I’m so close.  I want you to- I want you to make love to me before I do.”

“Anything, mein spatz.”  Whispered Anders. 

Wiggling to the right angle, Anders lay back and watched Fenris.  The man smiled then bit his lip when he began to lower himself on Anders’ cock.  His face was glorious and Anders’ heart wanted to explode.  Fenris was absolutely enjoying this.  “That’s right, use me just how you like.  I’m yours.”

On his knees, Fenris rode slow and sensual.  “ _Kaffas,_ Anders you feel amazing.  I never knew… _ungh._ ”  His confession was lost to intense pleasure, his speed picking up and his landing on Anders’ hips becoming more forceful.  “You’re so deep~ _soo good_.”

“Are you close?”  guessed Anders as Fenris continued to pick up speed.

“ _Yes, fuck, yes~”_

“Cum on my face, make me take it.  Make me taste you.”  The suggestion was quickly taken as a command.  With a strangled howl, Fenris pulled free to dump his load on Anders’ face.  It came thick and hot, the smell a perfect mix of sex and sweat.  Anders’ closed his eyes to protect them from the onslaught so he had to reach blindly with his hand to find Fenris’ raging hard-on, giving it one last suck.  With hallow cheeks, he drew out every drop the elf had in him.  He ran a hand adoringly over Fenris’ abs and was pleased to find a field of goosebumps. 

Fenris grabbed himself and pressed his tip to Anders’ lips.  “Suck it again, mage.”

That deep, rich voice made Anders’ toes curl.  Fenris cleaned up Anders’ face as he slowly fucked Anders’ mouth.  Peering up, watching Fenris breath heavily through his gapping mouth, his orgasm still plastered on his face, Anders felt like a sex god. 

A shiver rippled through Fenris.  He gave an amused chuckle, “Your turn.”

Fenris sat down next to Anders and pulled him on top, wrapping his legs around his waist.  Anders slid in, teetering on the brink.  “I’m not going to last.”

Wrapping his arms around Anders, Fenris playfully bit his earlobe.  “Then don’t.”

Andraste herself would have had a hard time keeping her panties dry around Fenris.  The power in his arms, that perfect jut in his hips, and those beautiful lips – all of it crushed beneath Anders as he furiously plowed into him, chasing his release. 

In his lust filled frenzy, Anders completely lost control.  His magic pulsed and Fenris’ tattoos flared to life.  Both men’s eyes popped open as they watched their bodies react. 

“You feel that?”  asked Fenris.

“It’s my fault, I’ll-“

Fenris squeezed his legs tighter, keeping Anders securely in his fine ass.  “No.  Thrust again.”

This time Anders felt it.  That pressure, that glorious pressure hitting just the right spot in his ass.  The magic tingled between them, a blue hue lighting Fenris’ tattoos.  “I feel it too.  It’s me, but I’m in you and - wow.”

“We can feel what the other feels.”  Fenris lay frozen in surprise.  “You care for me.” 

“I do.”  Leaning down he captured Fenris’ mouth with his, worshiping all that the man was – every thought on each quality he admired. 

The blue burned brighter and Anders felt Fenris.  His admiration, his pride in all Anders had accomplished during the war. 

The words were spoken with little thought, but Anders’ sincerity pierced through the both of them.  “I love you.” 

“I always loved you.  Forgive me for being a fool.” 

The feelings they shared, the intense lust mixed with genuine affection kept Anders moving.  He felt everything.  The heat of Fenris’ ass, and the wedge and drag of his own cock.  He could almost be fooled into believing they were in a threesome.  Despite the oddity of Fenris’ comment, he couldn’t stop.  Everything felt electric and that energy had to be spent.

“I’m- I’m…”  Anders warned, but Fenris refused to let him back out.  Instead he arched when Anders spilled himself while inside, mewling with pleasure as Anders’ hot cock pulsed against his tight ring.  Inelegantly, they grunted and groaned in the throes of passion as they entangled themselves further in the mess they’d made of the pelts. 

As the intensity waned, their breathing slowed and the magic that had connected them faded.  Anders stroked Fenris’ damp hair, “Are you alright?”

“Better than.” Fenris sighed.  He snuggled closer, his head resting on Anders’ chest.

Anders mind was still a fog, but one question bothered him enough he couldn’t let it rest.  “Why didn’t you tell me about my glücksbringer before?  It would have saved us so much trouble.” 

The silence sat for a minute, then Fenris rolled over.  “We should dress before the Hawkes return.”

Sitting up, Anders’ gently took hold of Fenris’ arm.  “Don’t shut me out.  Not after that.  Why the secrecy?”

Fenris’ finished pulling on his breeches, then huffed in resignation.  “I was afraid.”

“Of me?”  laughed Anders.

“I was concerned that seeing it again would remind you of when you gave it to me.”  Fenris stood, slouched under the low ceiling as he tied his breeches.  “I was not in a good place at the time.  I said things that were…not true.  I hurt you.”

Watching Fenris’ face fall, his eyes becoming damp with emotion, Anders was glad the bond between them had been broken.  “Hey, it’s alright.  It’s in the past.  Everything is going to be fine.” 

~*~

“Fucking fuck!  Can we go in now?  I’m starting to consider watching if it gets us out of this damned cold!”  Carver seethed to his brother.

“Shh-“  Garrett whispered back. 

The two of them sat crouched as close as they dared to the tent.  Garrett had felt the magic as they were returning with their dinner and chose to eavesdrop.  Originally it was out of perversion and for good blackmail material later, but as the magic inside the tent grew, he became more concerned, worrying Carver.

“They’re done.”  Garrett stood and brushed off his pants. 

“You’re not laughing.  Even on the front lines you weren’t this serious.  What happened?” 

Garrett gathered up the skinned rabbits and marched for the entrance.  “There’s a problem with Fenris.  Those two can’t be alone again.  Ever.”


	7. And Enjoy Life (NSFW)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The group joins up with the Crown's caravan and the politics thicken.

_Abomination.  Blood mage._

_Magister._

_Titles for your betters_

_You are buried in lies_

_There is no changing what you are_

 

A hum of magic startled Fenris awake.  Bolting upright, he scanned his surroundings for danger.  His skin was damp from sweat, his throat dry and raspy.  Garrett sat across from him, a ball of light floating in his hand that illuminated the tent.  The man’s severe features were more dramatic under the mage fire.  Ominous. 

The tension between them was unsettling.  Since the start of their journey the man had become more distant than he had been at the Von Magie estate.  Fenris gathered up his wool blanket and left the tent.  He was under no obligation to explain himself to the Warden.  All through dinner he and his brother were stranger than usual.  At first, Fenris assumed that they were aware of he and Anders intimacy, but knowing Garrett’s personality, the man should have teased them about it or spent the evening making crude jokes.  Instead, he was reserved, constantly watching Fenris’ actions and disgruntled when Anders insisted he and Fenris sleep next to each other.  Something was bothering the man but it wasn’t jealousy. 

Out in the chilly night, Fenris watched puffs of air escape his nostrils.  He shouldn’t have listened to Anders.  He needed this.  More than he needed the loving arms of his husband, he needed this pain.  The one night he let his guard down, the nightmares returned. 

Peering back into the tent, he saw Garrett had taken his spot next to Anders.  The way he faced the entrance announced his stance.  He saw Fenris as a threat.  With a growl, Fenris turned away.  He wanted to punch the man in the throat.  If the Hawkes weren’t so close to Anders, he might have. 

Deciding to be useful, he wrapped the blanket around himself and settled down next his sleeping camel.  From here, he could keep an ear out for the animals.  It was a better excuse than confessing he was hiding from his past. 

 

The rest of the travel days followed the same pattern as the first.  The only difference being the warmth between Anders and Fenris at the end of the day.  Anders brought the summons which included short summaries of the problems other districts were facing with the refugees and locals.  Fenris absorbed every word.  Anders took on a slightly different demeanor when he focused on the task at hand.  It was endearing to see him organizing and plotting.  It wasn’t that he sought a solution, he sought a solution that benefitted all parties.  Unlike most nobles, Anders wasn’t partial.  He had no interest in leveraging his position or that of others to take advantage of the situation the way any Magister in Tevinter would have.

Although Fenris maintained his calm and helped Anders as best he could, Garrett stilled eyed him suspiciously.  Carver hid it better. 

In the evenings, he dismissed himself to watch over the animals, which the Hawkes supported.  This left Anders being among the minority, reluctantly giving up his arguments for Fenris to sleep with him instead. 

As shitty as the nights were, the discomfort kept the dreams away.  Anders made it worth the arches and pains by bringing Fenris a warm breakfast each morning.  He sat close, their heads tucked close together as they sipped at their tea and shared some jerky.  Although Fenris missed being curled up in Anders’ arms, he thoroughly enjoyed these moments in the morning.  For a time, he could pretend it was just the two of them traveling for no other reason than to experience the world together. 

 

As planned, on the thrid day, they met up with the Crown’s caravan.  It was an impressive undertaking.  Servants, supplies, nobles, guards – absolutely everything that would be needed for such a long journey and _only_ what was needed.  Overall, it looked like a congregation of beggars.  Fenris noted a distinct absence of finery, wagons instead of carriages, and not a single entertainer.  No dancers, no minstrels, not even an idle servant brought simply to show status.  Brown, black and red. No frills were given to the canvases or clothing that would take a beating from the weather.  Everything and everyone had a purpose.

Since it was midday, Anders’ group merged with the caravan. Passing off the goats to the Crown’s handlers enabled Fenris and Anders to ride side-by-side.  The pace was slower and gave their mounts a much needed break. 

Anders gave Fenris a firm pat on the thigh, squeezing it fondly.  “They’re all looking at you.” 

“I am aware.” 

“You alright?” 

Fenris had to bite back the compulsion to lick Anders’ lips.  He was achingly adorable when he was protective like that.  “I am accustomed to being a spectacle.  Danarius found endless amusement in parading me around as his deadly ‘pet’ in Tevinter.  The stares here are different.  There is hostility, curiosity.  Oddly, it is comforting not to be regarded with feared.” 

Anders took Fenris’ gloved hand in his, kissing over the knuckles.  “I’m sorry what was that?  I’ve been suddenly distracted by a gorgeous sight.”

Smiling, Fenris took his hand back, feigning insult.  “Ridiculous faulpelz.”

“You never tire of that, do you?”

“I do not.”  Fenris hummed with pleasure.  It was pleasant to talk instead of stewing in one’s own thoughts all day.  Adjusting in his seat, he gestured to the entourage of nobles.  “If it is not a burden, assist me in putting names to faces.”

Anders eagerly obliged.  It helped Fenris mentally sort through the crowd as to who was whom.  Gauging their expressions and reactions to being introduced as the ‘Vint Spouse’ facilitated in determining how to present their proposals to the different districts.  Those more hostile to Fenris’ presence were most likely to object to measures that assisted the refugees with anything other than complete relocation. 

“Are you burnt out on meeting a bunch of strangers yet?”  Anders was in a good mood, invigorated at claiming Fenris as his spouse to each and every noble, delighting in some of the stunned reactions.

“No.  Although tedious, it is far more entertaining than herding goats across the desert.” 

“Good.  We’ll have more of the ‘tedious-ness’ tonight.  I have no doubt that a meeting will be called and we’ll go over the plans for Nessum, probably delve into the district issues as well.”  Anders twisted to reach his back saddle pouch, digging through to find the notes he’d taken over the past two days. 

“I could assist you if you wish.”  Fenris offered.

Anders chuckled, still digging out slips of paper.  “Oh really?  Think you have a good memory?”

“Yes.”  He responded plainly.

“Oh, alright.  Tell me about Heirr Zajec…”

Rapid fire, Fenris went through the Zajec family issues in their district, the connections the family had with its neighbors, economic woes, international ties and even pointed out the family members in attendance. 

“Andraste’s knicker-weasels!  How can you do that?”

“Part of why Danarius chose me.  If I were not training to kill with my blade then I was required to absorb every last bit of information about his enemies as I could.  It spared him the trouble of taking notes.  Paper trails can be compromised.” 

“Whereas a loyal servant couldn’t.”  Anders mood fell. 

“Slaves are easier to dispose of than the written word apparently.” 

Anders pulled to a stop.  “I’m sorry this reminds you of him.  You don’t have to come tonight if you don’t wish.  I don’t want you to be uncomfortable.”

“Your concern is appreciated but unnecessary.”  Looking at Anders, Fenris’ heart swelled.  On an impulse, he leaned over and kissed him.  His body reacted instantly.  Sweet tingles of excitement rolled under his skin.  His heart fluttered and he wanted nothing more than to press their bodies together.  Safe, appreciated, warm, loved. 

Love felt better than he could have imagined.

He pulled back from the kiss, caressing Anders short beard.  “I had heard stories of fools in love.  The mistakes they made, the sacrifices that lacked any logic.  But for you…you have me gladly doing strange things, mein faulpelz.”

“Keep talking like that and you’ll have me swooning in your arms.  A little unrefined considering our company.”  Whispered Anders with a teasing lilt to his words.  “But like you said, love drives a man to do strange things.” 

Anders tilted Fenris’ chin to have their lips meet once again.  The soft pecks quickly shifted to longer and deeper kisses that were too intimate for being in public.  Especially when Anders nibbled and sucked on Fenris’ bottom lip.  They were making a scene but Anders made no effort to stop until he’d had his fill.  Fenris treasured the attention. 

Suddenly, Anders’ camel jerked away to the tune of Garrett laughing.  “Get a room you two.”  His proximity implied that Garrett had been the one to spur the animal into action. 

“Jealously doesn’t look good on you.”  Teased Anders.

Garrett snorted, “As much as I’d love to give you shit, I actually have some business.  We talked to the Crown Principal.  The rest of the Wardens should meet up with us in a day or two with Commander Clarel.  They’ll travel with the caravan to Nessum.  Principal’s got a loose schedule set up by the diplomat in Navarra, a Cassandra Pentaghast.”

Fenris mused on the selection.  “A Seeker no less.”

Garrett was taken aback that Fenris knew the woman’s affiliation, but shook it off.  “Yes, she is a Seeker.  Mages are involved on both sides, mages outside the Chantry.  Navarran authorities thought it best to ask the Templars, specifically the Seekers, to attend and ensure that if tempers flared, the countryside wouldn’t be set on fire.  They’ve see reports of the destruction along the borders, they don’t want that brought down on their own people.  Fereldan even has a stake in this, they’ve reduced trade with Navarra for fear that refuges would assault their traders.  The Seekers are considered a neutral party in this, since they would be unaffected by any apostate hierarchy and are more independent of the Chantry.”

“You mean unintimidated by blood mages.”  Clipped Anders.  “Typical they would assume any ‘apostate’ would resort to such depravity.”

“Hey, I’m in the same boat.”

“And yet greater leniency is granted to Wardens.”

Fenris interjected before Anders could continue his tirade.  “Not this time.  The Wardens are the reason they have asked a Seeker to moderate.”

Genuinely offended, perhaps for the first time in his life, Garrett snapped back.  “You hang out with Anders for a day and all of sudden you think you know everything?”

Fenris dismissed Garrett’s attack and answered as succinctly and plainly as he could.  The man honestly could be an oaf at times.  “Had the Wardens not involved themselves directly in the war, then any Navarran diplomat would have sufficed as a neutral party.  Given that the Wardens historically don’t involve themselves in politics, they are considered a wild card.  Unpredictable.  Have no doubt that as the Warden-Commander of the Anderfels is present, so shall the Warden-Commanders of Ferelden and Orlais.”

This left Garrett gapping like a fish, “How....”  He turned to see Anders coughing into his fist to hide a smile.  “Even Carver doesn’t know.  We were going to broach the topic with the Crown personally once he was available.”

“My former Master was not one to spend his evenings at the theater.  As his bodyguard, listening to and absorbing the changing political landscape of Thedas was part of my life.” 

Garrett forced a mocking shiver, “Geez, Fenris, do you have to make everything sound so dire?”

Cocking slightly, Fenris observed, “You have no idea how slaves live.” 

“I believe Carver is searching for you.” Anders put more of himself between Garrett and Fenris as he pointed out the former’s brother.  “You should let him know if the Warden developments.”

Garrett grimaced at Anders.  “Alright.  I’ll see you at the council tonight then.”

“Yes, _we_ will.”  Anders watched him retreat, waiting a safe amount of time to ensure they weren’t overheard.  “You alright?  I’m sorry, he doesn’t think sometimes.” 

“Or all the time.  Anders, there is no need for you to defend me from the comments of others.  I have endured worse.”

“You shouldn’t have to defend yourself either.  Anyone who dares to look down on you will have my boot rammed down their throat and my staff shoved so far up their ass they might be able to gaze up at you properly.  You have fought for freedom, fought to keep this country together, no one has a stone to cast at you.  No one.” 

“Anders, I…”  _I am not who you think I am._   It’s what he wanted to say.  He wanted it so badly it burned in his throat to hold it back, but he was struck silent by the spark of blue in Anders’ eyes. 

Noticing Fenris’ intense stare, Anders drew a hand up to his face, his fingertips ghosting beneath his eye.  “You can see it?”  Anders steered his camel closer to Fenris’ and lowered his voice.  “It’s nothing.  I guess my magic reacted to my anger.  It’s nothing to worry about.”

“This is the second time.  First that night in the tent and now here.  Are you certain you have control?” 

“Yes.”  Anders swallowed hard.  “I have to.”

Fenris doubled checked their surroundings through the corners of his eyes.  They were being watched by everyone, the intent behind the scrutiny didn’t matter, this business was not theirs.  “This is matter best discussed another time.  Come.”

Spurring their camels to a faster gait, they moved to a different section of the caravan.  New people, different conversations, a complete break from where they were.  Yet, Fenris brooded over the reminder that a spirit lived in Anders. 

He’d seen possessions in Tevinter, individuals sacrificed to a demon for a Magister’s gain.  Sadly, the gain would often be trivial.  What was the life of an insignificant nobody to a Magister?  A short pointless existence.  However, in each scenario that he recalled, not a one involved a spirit.  A demon’s desires Fenris knew well, but a spirit?  That required further contemplation and careful observation. 

Fenris remained at Anders’ side for the rest of the day’s travel, eager for them to make camp and find time for themselves. 

 

The Caravan stopped to camp two hours before sunset in a canyon.  The cliff faces were too steep to climb and the crests were too high up for any ranged units to take advantage of the high ground.  There were only two ways in or out and both were well guarded by the Crown’s small contingent, but the tight space would be to their advantage.  Spread between the two units were the nobles’ tents, servants, supplies, and a meal prep area near the animal corral.  The Crown Principal kept track of where each family set up, like a military unit, each night the configuration would be the same allowing everyone to have decent situational awareness.  Fenris appreciated the efficiency. 

Word came down for the council to convene after dusk.  The designated spot was an open area, chosen specifically for the small tree that stubbornly grew in the cliff face.  It was the largest of the sparse few that dotted the canyon.  The Crown Prince would sit beneath it while the higher-ranking nobles took up seats flanking his sides, all the rest forming rows seated before him. 

“It’s a symbol of perseverance.”  Anders whispered while the council members mingled and made small talk before the proceedings began.  “Even deathroot trees have a difficult time growing out here.  It’s symbolic to have the political head sit under a tree, inferring that like the plant, they have strong roots to our heritage and will continue to grow and prosper despite any adverse conditions in life.”

Fenris eyed the scraggly tree.  The leaves were curled in, the hideous thing in need of water.  He’d readied a comment but they were interrupted when a silver haired man captured Anders in a hug. 

Fenris tensed, but eased the moment Anders cried out with joy, “Karl!  Maker’s breath it’s good to see you!”

The name combined with what Fenris knew about his appearance from reports, led Fenris to assume this was Karl Thekla, Anders’ cousin.

“Anders!  You son-of-a-bitch I would kill you if I didn’t have to mourn you again.  How could you do that to us?  I bet your family raked you over the coals when you got home.”  Karl kept a firm grip of Anders shoulders as he sized him up, as if unsure that Anders were alive.  “I can’t tell you how thrilled I was to receive word that you made it through that Void forsaken war alive.”

“Thank you, the journey home was interesting to say the least.  Turns out dead men aren’t allowed to use credit.” 

They both laughed.  Karl’s rumbled deeper than Anders’.  He was a mature man, clean shaven, broad shoulders and was slightly taller than Anders.  His eyes crinkled more in the corners, but like Anders, he did nothing to hide his emotions.  Fenris’ first impression was one of honesty and straightforwardness. 

“Anders, Anders, what will we do with you?  Look at this face.  You still prefer the nomadic look then?”  Karl teased him like the family was.

"I continually offer my skills, yet he is determined to vex me with this rugged appearance."  Fenris said, feeling the need to be included, just like family.

Karl's attention and mood shifted to a tensely guarded stance.  He didn't trust Fenris, wise for a man in his position, yet he put effort into being diplomatic.  "You must be Fenris.  Onkel Fritz speaks highly of you."

It was strange to hear the senior VonMagie’s name used so casually, it gave Fenris pause.  Anders took the opportunity to boast.  "Not undeservedly.  My husband is a busy little spatz."  

For a moment, Fenris took offense at being called 'little', but Anders tossed an arm over his shoulder and pulled him into a kiss.  All thoughts, all anger melted away.  Fenris moved his lips with Anders'.  Karl's presence kept his tongue back, but intensified the meaning of the gesture.  Anders had passionately supported and claimed him before the Crown Prince of the Anderfels.  It was a rush like no other.  A drug that gave him life.  The world smelled sweeter and heart soared through the stars.  A more perfect moment could not have been fantasized by even the greatest romantic in all of Thedas.   

They parted slowly, reluctantly.  Anders eyes seemed to be richer in hue.  His tenderness was glorious, rendering Fenris utterly speechless.

“And I shall take that as an indicator that your husband was equally happy to find you amongst the living?”  Karl’s interruption broke the spell, reminding Fenris of his manners. 

“Yes, your Grace.  Having Anders by my side once more has brought a new flame to my momentarily dim existence.”

Karl elbowed Anders lightheartedly, “Oh-ho, you’re in trouble, he’s a skilled sweet talker.  I wish we had more time to catch up, but it seems we’re going to start soon.  Did Hawke tell you about the extra Wardens inviting themselves.  Nessum is quickly turning into a world conference.”  Fenris nodded in agreement which caught Karl’s attention.  “I know you have come to speak on the refuges, but have you an opinion on the Wardens as well?”

The question was seeded with suspicion.  He was probing to learn more about Fenris and his loyalties.  He could feign ignorance and appear to be less of a threat, or he could divulge all he knew about the Wardens to ingratiate himself.  Or possibly look more suspicious.  Hardly knowing the man, Fenris couldn’t gauge the best option in the moment and oped to demonstrate his usefulness. 

“The strained relationship between the Wardens of Orlais and those of Ferelden since the Blight are well known, however, the status of those in the Anderfels is what shall determine how those factions move forward.  The politics in both countries is heated and the Nessum talks will establish a precedent for Warden-Nation relationships.  Commander Therin has done well to keep a separation between his faction and the political fabric of Orlais.  Commander Sabrae works hand in hand with King Loghain.  Both of their lovers are well known assassins which seeds suspicion on all fronts.  It would not take much to tip the scales one way or the other.”

“Leading to another war you say?”  There was weight to Karl’s question, encouraging Fenris’ line of thought.

“Yes.  The Orlesian Wardens have prided themselves on separating their faction from the politics of Orlais, while the Ferelden Wardens have worked hand-in-hand with the Ferelden monarchy.  In comparison, the Anderfels Wardens are a blend of both – a temporary alliance to face a common enemy.  It is expected that each of the southern factions are eager to see how this alliance develops now that the war is concluded.  Should tensions grow between Orlais and Ferelden, have they have done frequently through both country’s histories, they would like to know where the Anderfels’ support would most likely lie.”

A small grin tugged at the corner of Karl’s mouth, his guard dropping ever so slightly.  “My, my, Anders.  Onkel Fritz mentioned your husband was clever.  I see now that he was not exaggerating.  Perhaps I should be congratulating _you_ on landing such a catch.”

A whistle sliced through the air, cutting off all conversations as the Crown Principal announced the commencement of the council.  “In the name of the Crown and Prince Karl Thekla, we are ready to begin the discourse!”

Everyone settled down to their assigned spots in an orderly fashion.  The gentleness Fenris had come to expect from Anders disappeared.  His gait became stiff and his eyes hard.  The way he held his shoulders marked him as a man with power who was willing to use it.  Fenris fed off his confidence, slipping back to his old habits as a bodyguard.  He walked on Anders' non-staff side, a few steps behind to keep an eye on his back.  

Six families of the eighteen represented had mages and three had direct blood lines to the Crown.  Prince Karl was the first seated directly beneath the tree.  Anders sat to his immediate right with Fenris beside him.  The Hawkes, representing the Wardens, sat at the far end of the blood families to the Prince’s left.

The meeting was unlike anything Fenris had witnessed of statesmen.    In the absence of furniture, the attendees had no issue sitting on the bare earth.  Dust puffed up on their clothes.  A select few bothered with a small mat.  Only a handful of servants milled through the crowd with tea.  

Out of habit, Fenris accepted Anders’ tea on his behalf, cupping it in such a way his index finger slipped into the liquid, his lyrium feeling for poisons before passing it off.  Anders had noticed but made no comment as Karl gave an opening speech, outlining the agenda for the evening and reminding all in attendance to stay on those topics. 

The first topic concerned the pending negotiations with Tevinter, future relations, and concessions each house was willing to make.  Fenris watched with rapt attention.  Not a single noble wasted time discussing the importance of their issues over those of the country as a whole or boasted about their status.  It was more an open conversation rather than a litany of demands and threats.  Unity and the security of their citizens were the main theme of concern.  The stark contrast to what he’d become accustomed to in Tevinter was impressive.  The non-mage families were on equal footing as the mage ones was the most fascinating aspect he witnessed. 

Once the discussion shifted to the family districts, that was when personal interests became prevalent.  Anders became the foci of everyone’s attention as he presented the refuge options, each one tailored for specific districts. 

Fenris’ training failed him.  He should have been paying attention to the way each family reacted, making note of resistance.  Instead he was enthralled with Anders the politician.  He was by far the best speaker present.  His voice was firm, confident, and seductive.  It was the type of gentle timbre that would convince a man to walk through fire no reason. 

As anticipated, there were many who didn’t care for the proposals, to which Anders shot down the objections with explanations he and Fenris had prepared ahead of time.  Their extensive prep work had paid off when the nobles began to question Fenris’ loyalty as their last resort to evade integrating the measures.

“How can we trust your assurances?  The war is too fresh, the wounds are too deep.  You may trust your husband, but how can we?  I cannot ask my countrymen to follow so blindly.”  Neyissa Fischer’s district sat on the border with Tevinter and had been severely scarred by the war.  Resources were thin and the proposals would stretch them even thinner.  Unfortunately, a necessary measure to garner stability. 

“Your belief in the loyalty of my husband is moot.  As I have mentioned, this process has already been implemented in my own district.  I do not argue that it will be challenging, but it can work.  Just because you choose to close your eyes does not mean that the sun has ceased to rise.”  Anders responded calmly despite the hint of disapproval at the criticism thrown at Fenris.

“That is absurd!  How can you verify that there aren’t other machinations at work?  Can the Wardens vouch for this man?  Can the Crown?”  She stared at the men in question.

Garrett Hawke’s expression remained neutral, his gaze avoiding Anders’.  “No, we cannot.”

On the other hand, Karl surveyed Garrett with ill hid curiosity before answering, “The Crown cannot _at this time._ ”  Emphasis was added implying he had expected such an answer from Garrett.  “However, in light of the crisis that has befallen our country in the wake of the war, it is irresponsible to flippantly reject proposals.  Have you an alternative solution that does not involve more fighting?”

“Banish them!  There is no cause to offer safe harbor to these criminals who murdered our families and burned our countryside.”

“To what end?”  Anders retorted, his mood agitated.  “To send them back to the monsters who oppressed them in the first place?  Encourage Tevinter’s barbaric practice of abusing slaves for their own ends?”

“Tevinter shall never change and it is not our place to take on those who may still have loyalties despite their poor treatment.”  Neyissa glared at Fenris, her accusation clear to all.

“Apathy is weakness.”  As Anders spoke, Fenris could feel a current of magic budding.  “I was on the front lines, I saw the faces of those I had to kill.  They were not patriots, they were drones!  I have seen the oppression that Tevinter levies on its populace.  It is unjust to ignore their suffering.  It is unjust to assume we are better, that we are more deserving of freedom than they are.”

“You would have our own people suffer at the expense of those criminals?”

The magic in Anders grew and an undercurrent, a heightened urgency to his tone magnified his voice.  “Apply whichever labels allows you to believe in your misguided assertions.  The fact is, they are people, just as we are.  Everyone is deserving of the opportunity to build a future.    We know the value of freedom, otherwise we wouldn’t have fought so hard for it for four years.  Nothing worth having comes easy, but the effort, the strife we suffer through together will only make us as whole, stronger.”

Fenris watched as murmurs broke out among the council.  A good majority agreed with Anders, yet those who dissented did so loudly.  If anyone had noticed the change in Anders’ voice, no one called attention to it. 

The Prince remained silent, listening intently to both sides and carefully balancing his action forward.  When it became clear that a consensus could not be reached within the council, many turned to him for direction.

Karl rubbed thoughtfully at his chin.  “The suffering felt in the Anderfels cannot be ignored or underplayed.  However, as Anders has rightly pointed out, ignoring the suffering of others does us no credit either economically or morally.  This topic is a complex issue and I have decided to request that I have until Nessum to offer my resolution on the matter.”

Although he made the request, it was obvious that he expected it to be granted regardless of the heated debate.    “In the meantime, I encourage everyone to evaluate the proposals offered by House VonMagie and I caution against prejudices that can muddle sound logic.”

“Or fleeting emotions that can blind us to impending threats.”  Neyissa pipped in. 

Fenris felt the magic in Anders begin to crackle.  He subtly pressed a comforting hand to the small of Anders’ back.  “Prudent advice for anyone.  Thank you.”

Karl seized the opportunity and steered the topic to the renewal of nomadic treaties.  Fenris inched closer to Anders, his hand rubbing small circles as he gently flared his brands to life.    

“Are you well?”  He asked although he knew otherwise.  The bond from the other night was loosely reconnected and he could feel Anders indignation.  He felt the tension in Anders’ muscles and the agitation in his magic as it mingled with the lyrium within him.    

Closing his eyes, Anders took a deep breath before answering.  “I will be.  Thank you for stopping me.”

 _Abomination._ The word rattled in his mind.  Fenris lowered his voice to the point he wondered if Anders would even hear him.  “ _Was_ that you?”

“I…”  He paused, carefully considering his answer.  “Perhaps we should save this for another time.”  Anders’ eyes darted out over the council which was thankfully ignoring them for the time being. 

Fenris nodded, but kept his hand idly massaging Anders back.  Danarius considered the nomadic tribes too low in the food chain to be worthy of study, hence Fenris knew nothing about them.  Since he couldn’t contribute in productive manner, Fenris kept his brands activated so that their magic bond could hold. 

He’d been connected to a mage before, but this was different.  He didn’t feel ripped from his body, instead he felt more in control.  As if he were reaching outward instead of someone else reaching in unwanted.  There was no bite to the magic, it was calm.  Soft and natural to a point it felt nearly second nature. 

Overall, the council remained in session a total of four hours and dissolved at midnight at the Prince’s insistence that they keep to their travel timeline and leave as scheduled in the morning.  His goodnight for Fenris was a few degrees warmer than his welcome had been.

“Fenris, thank you for attending.  The hard work you put into customizing the proposals was quite impressive.”  Karl shifted as he clapped a hand on Anders’ shoulder.  “Good night dear cousin, try not to tire yourself out being the Champion of Justice, alright?”

Karl’s parting words resonated with Fenris.  He mulled over them as they sought out their tent.  He liked listening to Anders the champion for what matter for all, not just his own countrymen.  Anders pressed his point without resorting to blood magic or intimidation.  He was a man of principle that called on the humanity of others to act in the name of justice.  In Fenris’ estimate, Anders was uniquely compassionate without the appearance of weakness. 

The moment they entered their tent, Fenris pounced on Anders, dragging him down on a pile of furs.  Hungry, open mouthed kisses that consumed Anders.  Their legs were a tangled mess but their hips naturally found each other.  Even through the many layers of fabric, Fenris could feel Anders’ desire. 

He bucked hard and Anders moaned in his mouth through the flurry of kisses.  “I’ve missed you.  I’ve wanted you in my bed so badly.”

Fenris craned his neck as Anders’ lips venture down over the tender flesh.  A chuckle bubbled in his throat.  “You almost had me on my knees in front of the Crown Prince.  You are an impossible tease.”

Anders was breathless and giddy.  “ _Oh, mein spatz_.  Do you think I should be punished for my behavior?”

Startled, Fenris stiffened beneath Anders.  “What?”

A toothy, childish grin curled up the corners of Anders’ mouth.  His chest heaved as he panted heavily.  “I want you punish me.  I want you to rip the clothes from my body.  Pin me down.  I want you to press my face into the dirt and make me take it.” 

Wide-eyed, Fenris swallowed hard.  His cock was alert and eager to meet the demand, despite Fenris’ misgivings.  “Exactly as you say?  You want that?”

Anders quickly slid down Fenris’ body and mouthed at the crotch, his voice muffled.  Fenris could feel the heat of his words through the clothing.  “Yes, please.  Please, I want you.”

It would have been impossible for Fenris to be any harder, and Anders’ knew it.  He gummed at his shaft as best he could through the layers of cloth.  Pushing, teasing Fenris to get what he wanted. 

Driven by his pulsing cock and his desire to please Anders, Fenris pushed his lover on his back.  A snigger punched out of Anders when he hit the ground. 

“You think this is a game, mage?”

Anders squirmed in the blankets with delight.  “I think I love serious Fenris.”

In a swift succession of actions, Fenris flipped Anders on his stomach, ripped his breeches off of him, then straddled the small of his back, pinning his arms to his sides. 

Bent over, he bit into Anders ear until he winced.  “I am seriously going to fuck you blind.”

“ _Bitte, main spatz, bitte…_ ” 

Anders looked so vulnerable beneath him, but he was a mage.  A weapon.  Excitement coursed through Fenris’ blood like a raging storm.  He backed off Anders and his breath caught in his lungs when Anders stuck his ass in the air, his hands holding his knees in place.

“ _Bitte…”_

Meek.  Pleading.  Fenris swallowed hard to rally his courage and still the tremor in his fingers well enough to open his breeches. 

Listening to the rustling of his belt, Anders hastily added, “Don’t waste time, fuck me.  _Fuck me please_.”

Before any protest could be made, Fenris felt Anders’ magic, a small spell similar to the other night.  A wetness began to drip from the mage’s tight pucker.  It was like a preview of the glory of Fenris’ conquest to come.  Eagerly, he moved closer, his heart jumping out of his chest the moment his cock pressed against Anders’ entrance.  The slick was warm and as Fenris inched himself in, he felt his lungs tighten. 

He couldn’t speak.  He couldn’t breathe.  It was the most intense feeling he’d had in his entire life.  Pressing forward, the ring of muscle hugged him firmly, squeezing against the length of his entire shaft as he was welcomed by the heat of Anders’ core. 

Once seated balls deep, Anders sighed in contentment.  “Andraste’s knickers, you feel amazing.”  He then wiggled his ass.  “C’mon spank me.”

Executing the command, Fenris grinned at the instant sight of red on Anders’ creamy flesh.  The shockwave jostled them both, the sensation forced Fenris to take a sharp inhale.  His eyes swam in his skull, his brain quickly letting his cock dictate his actions.  When Anders bumped against him again, the reins of control were released.

Digging his fingers into the hips, he tested the sway and movement necessary to use Anders to please himself.  The heat from Anders and the tightness of his ass was phenomenal.  All that existed in the world for Fenris was to bury his raging hard on in that sweet mage, slamming into him over and over.  Fenris’ attention was torn between seeing himself fuck Anders’ moist hole or to watching the phases of ecstasy wash over his face. 

Fenris derived endless pleasure feeling the heavy swing of Anders’ erection as they fucked.  Everything about it felt naughty, hasty, and primal.  He sneered and Anders mewled.  The flat of his palm slapped that hot pink rump again. 

Anders cried out in pain, “ _Ahh,_ damn, fuck!  Oh, yes~ again! Bitte, main spatz, _bitte!!”_

The native tongue of the Anderfels was glorious coming from Anders’ strained throat.  He’d been screaming in to the pelts so hard that the back of his throat sounded full of gravel.  Fenris thrust harder, he wanted more.  More noise, more warmth.  He pounded into his love, striving to have Anders a puddle of spent flesh glazed in his spunk. 

Using his hold on Anders’ hips, Fenris pulled out and flipped him over.  Strands of his blonde hair clung to his face and he stared up at Fenris open mouthed, panting.  He reached down to touch himself, but Fenris swatted his hands away.

“No.  That’s mine.”  Fenris guided himself back in and his heart sang at how Anders’ body gladly yielded to him.  With one arm wrapped around a thigh and the other firmly gripping Anders shaft, Fenris resumed a steady rhythm, completely fascinated by the vision spread out before him. 

Seeing Anders laid before him, half dressed, pupils wide, and the man’s own cock in his hands was the most satisfying sight Fenris could imagine.  He thrust slow and smooth, making it easy for him to stroke Anders.  The sensation was indescribable.  Pumping into his lover while palming his cock made Fenris’ head thick with desire, his body riding the edge of oblivion.

“ _Kaffas, Amatus._ ”  His speed picked up and he hit it.  His orgasm ripped through his body, his skin completely wrinkled with goosebumps as he let loose, the hard pulses from his core dumping into Anders. 

“Don’t stop, _bitte_ , _nicht aufhören_.  _Nicht…auf~_ ”  Anders gasped, writhing as Fenris did as he was bid. 

Ultimately, Anders arched his back, his ankles locked behind Fenris to bury him deep inside as Fenris stroked him to completion.  Anders cried, his final release was sloppy as the thick liquid casted all over.  Neither man cared, Fenris actually marveled at the mess, pleased with the pleasure he was able to give.    

Fenris collapsed beside Anders, uncaring of any wet spots.  Both were heaving and weak.  The fur pelts prickled Fenris’ skin.  His entire body felt weightless, and yet, too heavy to lift.  Laying in his state of bliss, he had to know.  Fenris reached for Anders’ hand, his brands slowly glowing to life. 

Assuming his intent, Anders let his magic mingle with Fenris’ lyrium, reconnecting their unique bond.  Through Anders, he felt the sting of the spanking, but the swell of happiness in Anders let him know that it had been worth it. 

Anders became aware of how Fenris felt.  “Not bad for your first time topping, but I think you may need more practice.”  Anders rolled to his side to wrap an arm and leg over Fenris, his chin snuggling into his neck.  “I’d be happy to offer myself for such a purpose.”

“Ridiculous mage.”  Chuckled Fenris.

They held on to each other, working to catching their breath.  Eventually the noises of those around them ate away at their isolation, a reminder that there was business waiting for them in the morning.  With a groan, Fenris tucked himself back in his breeches and pushed up from the ground.

“Wait, no.”  Anders grabbed his arm.  “Stay.  There’s no reason to be alone, the animals are fine.”

“It is necessary.  Without the cold and discomfort, there will be nightmares.”

Anders chuckled affectionately.  “You’re telling me you’re afraid of a few bad dreams?”

“These.  Yes.”  The severity of his answer had meant to be matter of fact, but the meaning punctured Anders’ mood and his smile fell.

“I can set up wards, or maybe there is a potion that can ease the…”  He dropped the suggestions as Fenris shook his head.

“Were it that simple.”  Fenris reached out to cup Anders’ cheek, pulling him in for a tender kiss, then pressed their foreheads together. 

“Stay.”  Anders’ quiet whisper threatened to break Fenris’ heart.

“You claim that I leave you alone.  We both know that is not true.” 

Anders blinked rapidly, taking a moment to process the intent, his head drooped.  “Then you felt it.  The spirit.”  Using anything as an excuse to stall, Anders fumbled for his breeches.

Fenris waited patiently.

Once dressed, Anders ran a hand through his hair.  “I’m not an abomination.  It isn’t a demon, I mean, look at me.  I’m in control, I have no voices in my head.  It’s there to help heal my injuries, that’s all.”

“And on the day that you are healed, will it part with you so easily?”

Anders made no attempt to lie.  “One can hope.”

Would the spirit become a demon?  Would it try to take control?  Would Anders need to die send a possessive spirit back to the Fade? 

All were logical questions.  Ones that neither wanted to ask, fearing the answer would encourage the hypothetical to become reality. 

Fenris stood, thinking of his life up to this moment.  The void that had been his life as a slave.  The pain that cursed him as a soldier.  The acceptance from the VonMagies.  The bliss of being with Anders.

“The world of the Magisters haunts me still.”  Anders’ shoulders slumped and Fenris rose to be at his side.  “Anders, be that as it may, when I am with you, I can see- I can hope that things will be different.  I love you, Amatus.  I lost you once and that shall never happen again.”

Anders enveloped Fenris, both with his arms and his heart.  The firm press of his hands and the gentle caress of lips over his own. 

He knew before Anders stated it. “Liebster, I love you too.” 

A hot blush filled Fenris’ cheeks and the tips of his ears.  _Liebster,_ such a beautiful name, especially on Anders’ tongue.

Anders buried his face in the crook of Fenris’ neck.  His weight pulled downward, taking Fenris with it.  They held each other, providing comfort as the lanterns grew dim.  

The bustle of the caravan gave way to the sounds of the night.  The wind howled above the canyon and the snapping of tent canvas popped all around them. 

Anders clutched him tight.

Fenris reciprocated.

As before, they knew what wasn't voiced.

_I’m scared._

 

The day finally caught up to them and they both passed out, sapped of all energy.  In the sweet embrace of Anders arms, basking in the scent of love and sex, the nightmares returned.

 

 

_Ah, my little wolf._

_Haven’t you been busy._


	8. The Wardens

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> About time for an update! Many thanks to those still following.

_Ah, my little wolf._

_Haven’t you been busy._

 

Bone-chilling, that voice drilled into his spine.  Danarius.  His former master. 

Reality was ripped in two.  Large hands covered his mouth and dragged him from the tent, his mind still struggling to break from the dream. 

Outside, he found Garrett Hawke glaring at him.  “You think I don’t know, that I don’t understand but I do.  You and your damned demon.  You keep your fucking distance.”

“It is ill-advised to inform your adversary your intentions.  Brash.” 

“I don’t give a fuck if you know I’m coming.  Honestly, I’m giving you a chance to spare Anders surviving your death.  Run.  Get out of here, I won’t come for you.  Go back to your mast-“

The lyrium surged violently within Fenris as he surged forward.  Grasping the bulky man by the throat he lifted him off the ground, his windpipe failing under his own weight.  “I have NO MASTER!”  

Another brilliant flash and he tossed Hawke to the ground, not as far as he had hoped, but enough to get the point across – I am more formidable than you can imagine. 

“Holy shit.” 

Both men turned to see Carver standing stiff, stunned at what he’d witnessed.  When he didn’t leap to Hawke’s aid, the burly man gathered himself up from the ground and stormed off, constantly clearing his throat. 

“Fenris.”  Caver barely spoke above a whisper. 

Turning on the Warden, Fenris hissed. “What?  Are you here to accuse me of imaginary dealings as well?”

“How could – just…never mind.  It’s nothing.”

It was something or Carver wouldn’t have sought him out.  He cursed himself for turning Carver away.  Most of the time the man would listen to reason, at least more readily than his brother.  Fenris hated being in the dark, typically he had decent situational awareness to know what those around him were thinking, their motivations, and the political climate.  Ever since meeting up with the main band headed to Nessum, things had been thrown off. 

A crisp breeze nipped at Fenris’ ears.  Wrapping his arms around himself, he stole one last glance at the tent.  With a heavy heart, he plodded to the animal pens where his only warmth would be the memory of Anders’ tender embrace. 

 

~*~

The next morning, Fenris was awoken by a stable hand tending to the animals.  A gruff, strong woman who grinned at him mischievously.  “Having trouble wit ya lover, eh?”

Rising, Fenris arched his back and stretched his arms.  “More so the extended family.  Disapproval is inconvenient.” 

The woman gave a knowing chuckle, then resumed to her work. 

Fenris continued to twist and stretch.  His back popped and his muscles slowly warmed up, losing their stiffness.  It was during one of his stretches that he reached low and slowly rose, uncoiling his spine – that’s when he saw him.  Fenris’ heart caught in his throat as Anders approached.  The glittering sunshine formed an aura around his striking figure, squared shoulders, confident stride, he was glorious.  He wore traditional regalia of bleach white robes for a battle mage, trimmed in purple and black for the colors of the Anderfels.  The left breast adorned with the sunburst medals of his accomplishments, the right shoulder draped in golden braids.  

The first thought to enter Fenris’ head was for Anders to snatch him up and carry him off.  The power he emanated stirred a feral instinct within him.  It was a guilty pleasure he savored, not because of the conquest, but because it was Anders.  He knew what Anders was capable of and thoroughly proud of it.  To see him adorned as befitting his accomplishments was breathtaking. 

Drawing closer, he could see that that Anders was not happy.  He’d never seen such a severe expression mar Anders’ face.  Unsure what caused his displeasure, he took on a neutral tone.  “Good morning.”

Anders’ eyes darted over Fenris briefly.  “We need to get you changed.”

Falling in step beside Anders, Fenris wondered, “I understood that we would not meet with the Warden-Commanders until the tomorrow.” 

“We aren’t.”  Anders clipped.

Weaving through the encampment, Fenris noted that no other nobles wore their formal attire.  Trepidation welled in his stomach but he kept all other questions to himself.  He’d never seen Anders like this and did not want to make things worse unintentionally. 

What had he done?

_Metal pins hammered into the wooden floor.  First piercing his form, then pinning him in place.  With each strike, Fenris felt the rough surface of the metal tug at his skin.  The pain was all encompassing._

_He prayed for the whip.  Lashes were quick.  This was slow and torturous._

_‘I had thought we were past this.  It seems a reminder is in order.’_

_Fenris dared not cry out.  He held back tears.  Tried to.  It proved to be an impossible feat._

_His jaw ached, he worried that he’d force his teeth into his brain from biting so hard._

_Fenris paled at the possible punishment for accidently killing himself._

_He screamed to stay alive._

_Screaming made everything worse._

_‘Master!’_

_‘You call to the wrong person for grace.’_

_Head sideways, the pressure from his Master’s boot ground his ear into the floor.  Chunks of cartilage popping out from torn flesh.  A puddle of blood oozing into his gapping mouth._

_‘Master, please!’  The bitter red goo splatters with his words.  How much was his?  How much was theirs?_

_‘Do you seek pity?  I gave no such permission.  You never ask, you never **think** , unless I tell you.  Without me, you do not know how to breathe the air around you.  There is no value on that pretty little skull of yours unless I say so.  Without me, you are nothing.’_

_This was Fenris’ fault._

_He knew better._

_‘Yes, Master.’_

_I shall do better._

The memory put a sick feeling in his stomach, distracting him to the point he couldn’t remember entering their tent, much less what Anders had just said.  “My apologies, M-Anders.”

At the tip of his tongue, he’d almost said it.  That evil habit.  It made his skin scrawl and his guts churn to the point of nausea.  By default, he sought better feelings by thinking of a way to please Anders.

That ingrained habit surfacing again.

He wanted to scream.

“Hey, hey.  You alright?  Are you sick?”  Anders’ eyes were wide with concern, his hands palpated Fenris’ cheeks then forehead.  “You’re freezing, dammit!  I’ve have Hawke’s head for this.”  As he spoke, warm magic spread out from his fingertips to chase the cold away.

“He drove you out into the night, didn’t he?  Son-of-a-bitch.  I tried to play nice, but no more. Here.”  Anders grabbed at pieces of an outfit that had been laid out.  “Get out of that, you’ll wear this from now on.”

At first, Fenris reached out to touch the finely woven fabric, but jerked his fingers back knowing they were dirty.  It was beautiful.  Pristine white, trimmed in purple and black, similar to Anders, yet this comprised of breeches marking one a warrior.  The shoulder cords gave him pause. 

“This cord.  It is reserved for the royal family.”

“And you’re going to wear it.  As my husband, you are part of my family.”  Anders’ anger softened into a warm smile.  “You were such a spectacle yesterday, I decided it would be my turn.  Can’t let you have all the fun.  I refuse to have anyone mistake you for a guard, or passing fancy.  We are one.”

Anders eased in for a sweet kiss.  Fenris extended it by grabbing his waist and holding him steadfast.  Enjoying the intimacy, the nightmares subsided and the snake pit of fears were drowned.  Fenris peppered Anders’ cheeks.  With each kiss he gave silent thanks for his sisters, his father-in-law, his new hometown. 

Fenris felt a warmth that ran deeper than the magic Anders had used.  “You are too good for me, faulpelz.”

“And you for me, mein spatz.”  It was Anders who pulled away and collected Fenris’ clothes.  “Come, we need to be ready to leave with the rest of the caravan.”

Agreeing with a nod, Fenris quickly shed himself of his garments.  At the point of complete nudity, he turned to Anders for the clean set only to be met by hungry eyes.  He cocked his head to the side and issued a warning, “Amatus…we are short on time.”

Anders fell to his knees then pushed the clothes behind him as if they were a ransom.  “I can be quick if you can be quiet.”

“I - “  Anders’ mouth didn’t wait for permission.  “ _nnnugh~_ oh, _mmm_.”  Fenris chuckled, feeling the weight lift off his worried heart.  “I accept your challenge.” 

~*~

The rest of the day held a distinctly different tone from the one previous.  Anders’ plan had an effect, though it remained to be seen if it was the effect he was seeking.  There was jealousy, amusement, embarrassment, and a sizable portion offended.    

Steering his mount closer to Anders, Fenris kept his voice low for just the two of them.  “Many are not pleased with our actions.”

“That is their problem.  If they weren’t such children then I wouldn’t have to resort to using my rank to have them afford you the respect you deserve.”  Anders lowered his voice a notch.  “We can’t afford to have discord.  These negotiations need to proceed as flawlessly as possible.  This must be settled now.  Before Nessum.”

The weight of Anders’ worry was not lost on Fenris.  With the war so fresh, few were ever eager to meet it again.  “Know that I will never leave your side.”  Anders gave a faint smile before Fenris added, “You will be in need of it, Faupelz.”

Anders practically fell from his mount with laughter, drawing the attention of all within the vicinity. 

The lighthearted mood remained for the rest of the day.  The hard pace set by the caravan meant only short stops.  Anders made rounds to the other families, Fenris at his side.  He made small talk and listened to concerns.  At first, Anders had to encourage Fenris to engage in the discussions.  Eventually they found a good rhythm and worked seamlessly, each approaching concerns and directly addressing worries.  It was a given that the families would talk amongst themselves and anything that the VonMagies could do to put the truth out there would be well worth the effort. 

Fenris knew he must have looked the smitten fool with the permeant grin on his face.  He didn’t care.  Unreservedly he admired his husband.  His diplomacy was one of balance.  Fenris pictured the man holding a scale, his delicate fingers placing small grains here and there to keep the trays balanced.  His dedication to being as fair as possible made him a popular man and Fenris was pleased to see that by the end of the day, the air of hostility was practically gone.

“It is a wonder you do not work directly for the crown.”  Fenris kept an eye on the horizon.  Another day closer.

“Oh, Karl has tried.  Believe me!”  Anders laughed as he firmly patted his camel.  “I dislike the politicking.  Give me the simple life and some cuddly animals and I’m content.”

“Your humility would serve you well.” 

“Trying to get rid of me, are you?”  Anders teased.

“Would you leave me behind?”

Taking Fenris’ hand in his, Anders lifted the gloved hand to his lips.  “Never.”

“Anders!”  Karl’s camel trotted over to join the duo.  “My apologies for interrupting, but I was hoping to pick the brain of your handsome spouse.”

“Flattery is unnecessary Your Highness.”  Fenris quipped, earning a royal chuckle.

“Ah, but it is well deserved regardless.  Tell me, you are well versed in the goings on of other nations.  What caused such a rift between the two southern factions of Wardens?”

Fenris noticed Anders’ spine stiffen at the question. 

“The split happened at the final battle at the end of the Fifth Blight.  The betrayal of Loghain at Ostagar had left only two surviving Wardens to rally the southern forces.  After months of fighting Darkspawn and working their political might, all of the southern forces were gathered and ready to defend Denerim.  Loghain’s betrayal sent he and his daughter to the executioner’s.  When the question came up as to who should take the throne, Warden Alistair had assumed it would be he, since he was the half-brother of the Hero Cailain.  His fellow Warden did not agree and is often quoted as saying, ‘We need a General, a true warrior who has proven their worth.  You are not that man, Alistair.’”

Karl flinched.  “Ouch.  That’s brutal, considering that they worked together to rebuild the southern forces.” 

“As you may imagine, Alistair did not take it well.  He tried to gain the support of the nobles after the final battle, but they had already thrown their support behind the Warden who actually slew the Archdemon.  The relationship soured to the point that Alistair fled with his lover to Orlais in fear for their lives.”

“So, the exiled prince of Ferelden commands the Wardens in Orlais?  Damn.  I thought the drama in Weishaupt was intense.”  Karl shook his head. 

“Not only did the Hero of Ferelden grab the throne from Alistair, but also married a famous Orlesian bard.  Their rule came with an intense network of spies that would make Antiva jealous.” 

“Maker.”  Karl rubbed at his temples.  “I’m so thrilled they’ve invited themselves.  Thank you Fenris, your insight has been exceptionally helpful.”

The Crown Prince spurred his camel to rejoin the head of the caravan.  Fenris waited a few moments before asking Anders, “Is something the matter?”

Ander gave a firm shake of his head and lied.  “No.”

Whatever it was, Anders was clearly not going to talk about it, so Fenris dropped it.  Today had been good and he had no desire to soil it over something petty.

~*~

That evening in the privacy of their tent, both men removed their dusty attire.  “Give that to me and I will clean it for our final leg tomorrow.”

Anders passed over his robes.  “Are you a laundress too?  You never cease to amaze me.”

“Then you are easily amazed.”  Fenris snarked with a smile. 

Pressing a kiss to Fenris’ temple, Anders also took the opportunity to grope his firm ass.  “And yet deeply appreciative.  Thank you for taking care of those.  I’ll run and get us something to eat.  I have no desire to mingle with the crowds tonight.”

Throwing on the brown travel clothes from the day before, Anders slipped from the tent.  Night had already fallen, but thanks to the organization of the caravan, he knew exactly where to go.  Walking past the cantina, he threw back the fabric of Hawke’s tent.

The stunned Warden sat with his brother, reading over a stack of paperwork.

Immediately, Anders laid into the man.  “Did you think I was stupid?  That I wouldn’t know what you were doing?”

Carver stared at the two of them in confusion.  “What is he talking about?”

“You!”  Anders pointed at Garrett.  “You had Karl talk to Fenris today.  What else did you say to him?”

Garrett grabbed a small stack of papers.  “You think I’m just gonna keep this to myself?  He has to know that his cousin is married to a Maker-damned assassin!  Now, whether he tells any of the other nobles, that’s his business.”

“Fenris wouldn’t do that to me.”

“But what about the Crown Prince?  Or anyone else?”  Garrett shot to his feet.  “What is the matter with you?  How can you not see it for what it is?  How can you not _feel_ it?  It was there!  I felt it this morning!”

Garrett paced out his frustration before adding, “Tell me.  For fuck’s sake tell me this is part of your plan.  That this is a game, that you’re not _actually_ in love with him.”

Anders let his silence be his confession.

“There is some _thing_ attached to him, Anders.”  Garrett’s calm statement conveyed his concern. 

“What?  You mean like me?” Anders sneered. 

“That’s different and you know it!”  Hawke snapped.  He ran a hand through his hair with a frustrated sigh.  “Anders.  You have to listen to me.  What you have with Fenris is a lie.  He’s going to do whatever that monster in his head tells him.”

“I know he loves me.” 

“Fine.  Yes, okay, but Anders.”  Hawke put a consoling hand on Anders shoulder.  “I am truly sorry, but we both know he can’t fight something like that.  He’s too dangerous.”

“Are you saying I should have him incarcerated?” 

“As a precaution.  Yes.” 

Anders turned to Carver.  “You’re pretty quiet down there.”

Carver shrugged his shoulders and leaned back on a stack of pillows.  “Honestly, I don’t know what to think.  I’m not a mage so I don’t know what creepiness Garrett is talking about.”  He paused, then cast his eyes downward.  “I’ve also never been in love, so I don’t know what you’re talking about.  Yet…Anders, we do have facts.  Would you at least consider it?”

A voice in his head screamed ‘no’ over and over.  “I’ll think about it.”

He stormed out of the tent.  His mind racing as he stalked back to his tent.  Inside he found Fenris laying out their clothes to dry.  Green eyes met Anders’ empty hands.  “Forget something, faupelz?”  His laughing smile faded.  “Are you alright?”

“I ran into Hawke.  He’s still an ass.”  Anders slumped down next to the warm pile of coals. 

“I find that Carver tends to think before he speaks.”  Fenris offered. 

Anders reached up to take Fenris’ hand then coaxed him down to the floor.  “I don’t want to talk about them, or anything else.” 

He wanted the outside world to disappear.  No more plans, no politics or war or anything.  He wanted all of it to fall into the Void forever.

Anders wrapped his arms around the lithe elf and hummed with pleasure against his chest.  “ _Mmm,_ I just want to lay here.  Happy.  With you.”

“I shall gladly oblige.”  Fenris held him tighter, slinging a leg over his waist and threading his fingers through his hair.  In seconds, Anders fell fast asleep. 

 

The following morning had the entire caravan donning their more formal attire.  They had made good time and would arrive at Nessum by mid-afternoon.  Anders took up his ceremonial position next to the Crown Prince.  Fenris by his side. 

The caravan was greeted at the gates to Nessum by a small contingent of Seekers, the bulk of whom disappeared to take care of disbanding the caravan and setting the nobles up in their quarters.  The Crown Prince, Wardens, and the VonMagies were led by the head Seeker, Cassandra Pentaghast into the main keep. 

“The Wardens from Ferelden and Orlais arrive only hours ago.  We have provided a room for you to conduct any outstanding business prior to the negotiations set for tomorrow.” 

Karl walked side by side with Cassandra.  The rest trailed behind.  “Thank you Seeker.  I would also like an opportunity to meet with the Ambassador before tomorrow as well.”

“She is attending the Wardens as we speak.  You may make any arrangements with her personally.”

Anders tapped Fenris and made a scowl, poking fun at the Seeker’s stiff demeanor.  Fenris pinched him as a reminder to be professional.  His light-hearted mood only improved when they entered the parlor to greet the southern Wardens.

A dirty blond headed human stood and approached the group first.  “Greetings from Orlais.   I am Warden Commander Alistair and this is my second in command, Zevran.”

Next to Alistair stood a tall, dark skinned elf with hair so blonde it seemed white.  As he reached out to shake Karl’s hand, Anders noted that he has scrolling tattoos on his arms as well as his face.

Impatient, two women joined the group and made their introduction.  “Warmest salutations from Ferelden.  I am Warden Commander Surana and this is my second in command, Leliana.”

Surana was a lovely woman with dark skin, white hair, and thin, scrolling lines of Dalish vallasin tattooed over her face.

Anders sidestepped over to Garrett’s side and elbowed him hard in the ribs.  Garrett doubled over slightly making it easier for Anders to whisper into his ear.  “So, what was that you were saying about reliable reports of an assassin being ‘an elf, dark skin, scrolling tattoos, and light hair’?”

Carver was the only one to speak.  “Holy shit.”


End file.
